Infectious Personalities
by Katling
Summary: House faces two challenges. A strange new case involving a rather horrifying set of symptoms and a change in direction in his relationship with Wilson. HouseWilson. Rating mostly for horror. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

This is something of an introductory chapter - the medical mystery will start in the next chapter.

* * *

Gregory House rolled his cane in his hand and glared around the board room. "Why am I here?" he asked acidly. 

"Because this is a Department Heads meeting," James Wilson replied patiently from the seat beside House. "And as the Head of Diagnostic Medicine, you are required to attend."

"I never have before," House countered.

"Yes, that is true," Wilson said idly. "So why _are_ you here?"

House grumbled and thumped his cane against the floor a few times. "Cuddy threatened to give me more clinic hours if I didn't start turning up."

Wilson swallowed a smile. "Ah, that would explain it. Well, it won't be too bad."

House gave him an incredulous look. "Really?" he said with disbelief.

"It's just a meeting, House. We sit around and make sure there are no major problems in the hospital and if there are, that we all know about them," Wilson replied as other doctors began to filter into the room. "You don't even have to pay attention. I'm sure Cuddy's not expecting that from you."

"Which brings me back to my original question of why am I here," House said as he began twirling his cane in his hand, much to the annoyance of the doctor who had sat down on the other side of him.

Wilson shot the doctor in question a look that combined both an amused apology and an air of 'well, what can you do, it's House'.

"That's a circular argument. You're here because Cuddy threatened you."

House's response was cut off by the arrival of Lisa Cuddy and the start of the meeting. He slumped down in his chair as much as he could and stopped twirling his cane in favour of tapping it on the top of the table, enjoying the annoyed looks he was getting. If he kept this up, Cuddy might actually forbid him from coming to these meetings. For his part Wilson was torn between watching the slyly amused look that was growing in House's eyes and watching the increasingly frustrated and irritated expression growing on Cuddy's face. Finally he settled on watching House since he always enjoyed seeing his friend being playful.

It was the movement of the other people in the room that started Wilson out of his thoughts and he realised that the meeting was over. He gave himself a small shake and wondered how long he'd been caught in his introspection. He glanced over at Cuddy and had to quickly look away before he laughed at the expression on her face. That expression promised revenge and probably more clinic hours.

"Tell me you didn't spend the entire meeting annoying Cuddy," he said quietly to House. "She's going to want revenge and she's going to get it."

"It'll be worth it," House replied as he pushed himself to his feet. "Besides you spent the entire meeting looking at me. Which was flattering but is definitely going to start all those rumours again."

Wilson hesitated but as he couldn't actually deny that he chose to ignore it or at least deflect it. And he was _definitely_ not going to get House started on the rumours that periodically ran around about the two of them.

"You need a case. You're dangerous when you're bored."

House looked pleased with himself as they walked out of the board room. "Good. Maybe Cuddy will make me stop coming to these things."

Wilson laughed. "Actually I don't think that's going to work. She's just as likely to decide that torturing you is more fun than her own frustration."

House frowned as he used his cane to push the button for the lift then his face cleared. "I can beat her at this."

"This should be fun to watch," Wilson said as blandly as he could manage. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure who to put my money."

House gave him a mock hurt look as the walked into the lift. "You think I won't win?"

"Cuddy knows you too well," Wilson said, wondering if he was waving a red rag in front of a bull. "And you don't know her nearly as well as you think you do."

House's eyes narrowed and he was silent as they got out of the lift and walked along the hallway to House's office. House sat down behind his desk and Wilson took a seat in front of the desk, inwardly amused by the look on his friend's face.

"I wonder if I could get hold of her file," House mused.

Wilson gave a snort of laughter. "House, if you want to know more about her do it the normal way and incidentally you really don't need to know everything about everybody."

House gave him an arch look. "You've said that before. Accompanied by a very distressing limping twerp comment. Besides my way is more fun."

"Yes, I could see how devastated you were at the time," Wilson replied dryly. "And I think your way could get you into trouble."

House shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Trouble with Cuddy always ends up with you getting more clinic hours which means I end up hearing the complaints. And getting the consult calls. Which leads us back to those rumours."

House gave him an amused and slightly scornful look then started packing his things. His next glance at Wilson was rather bland. "I'm getting out of here."

Wilson sighed but didn't move. "Good idea."

House slung his bag over his shoulder and eyed his friend for a long moment before giving a long-suffering sigh. "Come on. I have beer and you can buy the food. Chinese, I think."

Wilson perked up a bit and stood. "I'll get my stuff. Meet you at your car."

"Of course we're meeting at my car," House said smugly. "Who wouldn't want to meet at my car? Who wouldn't want to _own_ my car?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and walked out of the office, glad of an opportunity to avoid going back to an increasingly unwelcoming home.

* * *

Two hours later, Wilson was sprawled on the couch in House's apartment while House himself sat at the piano and played a few random notes. Wilson had stripped his suit jacket and tie off and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Being more casually dressed, House had merely removed his jacket though Wilson had been surprised to see him take his shoes and socks off as well. 

Containers of take-out Chinese and empty beer bottles littered the low table in front of Wilson and he emptied his current bottle before letting it join the others. He then let his head fall onto the back of the couch and sighed. He knew he'd probably had too much too drink and he also knew the reason why.

"Was that your fourth?" House said idly as he continued to play the piano. "You'd better stay. It wouldn't look good for the respected Head of Oncology at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to be pulled over for drink-driving."

And there was the reason why. Wilson didn't really want to think about why he would rather spend the night on his best friend's couch than in the same bed as his own wife. Or maybe that should be ex-wife. It certainly looked like it was heading that way and that would make him 0-3 in the marriage stakes. Yet another thing he really didn't want to think about.

"Thanks," he muttered as House started playing something soft and yearning that he couldn't quite place.

He was half-expecting some kind of comment from House since this was the third time this week he'd stayed the night but much to his surprise nothing came. He tilted his head to one side and looked over at House. The older man was staring into space with a pensive expression as he continued to play. It was about at this point that Wilson realised he'd been spending a lot of time lately staring at House and that until today House hadn't really called him on it. He sighed as he let his head roll back and stared at the ceiling instead.

Truth be told Wilson knew why he'd rather spend time with House instead of his wife, it just wasn't something he wanted to spend much time contemplating though it seemed that his brain wasn't planning on obeying him much tonight.

For a start he wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten from being a self-admitted panty-peeler to finding his best _male_ friend attractive and once you'd gotten to that point what did you do about it? As far as Wilson was aware House had only ever dated women…for that matter so had he. Oh, he'd done some experimenting back in college but nothing really since then.

And House was attractive in his own unique way. He didn't have the kind of boyish good looks that Wilson possessed but underneath the scruff and the lines that the pain had etched into his face there was a rather handsome man. And Wilson had always liked the grace with which House moved, even with the limp. House's sarcastic and acerbic sense of humour was sometimes a bit hard to deal with but once Wilson had learnt to fight back it had simply become amusing, in fact he'd found that House _liked_ it when he was equally if more subtly sarcastic in return.

Wilson slowly became aware that the music had stopped and House had turned around on the piano stool and was now staring at him with a very familiar expression on his face. Wilson winced slightly. He knew that expression; that was House's diagnostician look. His 'I'm going to figure this out if it kills me, you and the ducklings' expression.

"The little woman not expecting you home?" House said blandly.

Wilson sighed. "I severely doubt it," he admitted reluctantly.

Understanding flickered across House's face before a sardonic expression settled on it.

"Don't start," Wilson said warningly. "There is nothing you can say that has not already occurred to me and I don't need reminding of my disastrous marriage record."

House blinked; Wilson didn't often use that tone of voice with him. He considered what he'd been planning on saying then, in a rare flash of good sense overriding his desire for amusement, he discarded it.

"Come on. Time for bed," he said instead as he grabbed his cane and used it to push himself upright.

Wilson closed his eyes as a surprising and rather inappropriate feeling of lust flashed through him at that comment. He scrubbed his face with one hand as he let himself accept the fact that not only was marriage number three over but at least he had the consolation this time of knowing the reason for it.

Wilson pushed himself up from the couch and looked around, expecting to see House heading for the cupboard where he kept the spare sheets and blankets. Instead House was heading towards his bedroom. When he became aware that Wilson wasn't following, he turned around and gave the younger man an irritated look.

"Well?"

"Uh, mind telling me what's going on?" Wilson said hesitantly.

"My couch is not designed for extended periods of sleeping," House said with a roll of his eyes. "If you keep sleeping on it you're going to hurt something. Then you'll blame me. My bed on the other hand is _very_ comfortable and very large."

"Yeah, I know," Wilson said in a vaguely dazed tone as he stood. "You dragged me along to the shop when you bought it."

"Right, so come on," House said with a jerk of his head.

As House turned around, Wilson noticed that the expression on his friend's face had become his usual smug one that he regularly got after solving a case. Wilson felt something heavy settle in his stomach and he fervently hoped that for once House had got it wrong.

By the time Wilson got to the bedroom, House had already disappeared into the bathroom and Wilson sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He had a funny feeling this was going to be something of a mistake but he was too tired and had had just a bit too much to drink to really care. He slowly stripped down to his boxer shorts and rifled through House's drawers until he found an old Who t-shirt which he pulled on. As he was doing that, the door to the bathroom opened and House limped out.

The older man eyed the shirt Wilson was wearing with a raised eyebrow but did not comment. Wilson walked past him into the bathroom, hearing the rattle of House's pills behind him. When he came out only a single light beside the bed was on and House was under the covers. Wilson gave a tiny huff of relief when he realised House had chosen the side of the bed that meant he wasn't like to accidentally knock his leg during the night.

"Come to bed, dear," House said with a ridiculously overdone leer that caused Wilson to roll his eyes and feel normal for the first time since he'd left the hospital.

"No wonder those rumours keep reappearing," Wilson said mildly as he got into the admittedly very comfortable bed.

"And here I thought it was because you seem to keep getting lost on your way to the Oncology department and end up in my office."

Wilson rolled on his side so that he was facing his friend. "Maybe it's was because of those supposed consults you keep calling me to the clinic for," he countered with a snort. "Though the woman with the breasts she bought for her husband was very nice. Did I ever thank you for that one?"

"Repeatedly," House replied with an amused look in his eyes. "Though the hooker…er, masseuse you got for me was a much better way of saying thank you."

Wilson closed his eyes briefly as he felt a twinge of jealously flicker through him at the memory of the expression on House's face when the masseuse had worked on his hand. He rolled back onto his back and opened his eyes only to find House watching him intently.

"Well, that answers that question," House said in a satisfied tone of voice.

Wilson tensed. "What question?" he asked carefully.

"What your reaction is likely to be if I did this," House replied as he pushed himself up on one elbow then leaned over and kissed Wilson.

Wilson froze in surprise for an instant as he processed what was happening then he slid a hand around the back on House's neck and returned the kiss rather enthusiastically. When they finally separated both men were a touch breathless and Wilson was pleased to see House was looking a little dazed as well as annoyingly smug.

"That was surprising," Wilson said, allowing his curiousity to colour his voice and knowing House would pick up what he meant to say underneath what he did actually say. "Nice but surprising."

House settled himself a little more comfortably on his side, wincing only briefly as his leg made itself known. "Just nice? I'm crushed. I know I'm a little out of practice but I was hoping for more than _nice_."

"Well, maybe it was a bit more than nice," Wilson allowed with a small smile. "But still, I rather expected that it would be Cameron in this position."

House raised an eyebrow as he shuddered. "Now that's a thought that's going to fester. Cameron believes I can be _fixed_ and I'm not sure I want to be around when she works out that's not going to happen. Disappointment is so taxing to deal with. _You_ on the other hand already know that fact."

"Yes," Wilson said with a hint of sadness.

"Of course that does lead to the question of why you and not, say, Chase," House continued blithely. "Which is basically what you were really asking."

Wilson sighed. "Pretty much. This isn't exactly what I expected from you."

"_You're_ the ladies man, Dr Panty Peeler."

"_You're_ the one who dated Stacy."

"And look how _that_ ended up."

"Yeah," Wilson said heavily. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"I think the more relevant question is your opinion on all of this," House countered. "You're the married doctor after all."

Wilson propped himself up on his side again. "I think I can safely say this is what I want and have wanted for some time."

"What about Julie?" House asked flatly.

"I'll call my lawyer tomorrow," Wilson said challengingly, enjoying the slight widening of House's eyes.

"Are you sure?" House asked, suddenly serious.

Wilson deliberately misunderstood. "Well, you _are_ the biggest pain in the ass in the entire hospital but I knew that already." House didn't look amused and Wilson sighed. "Yes, Greg, I'm sure. I think both Julie and I are aware that the marriage is dead. It's really only apathy that's been holding us together lately."

House stared at him for a long moment then nodded once. "Get some sleep. You need it."

With that House rolled onto his back and reached out to turn off the light. Wilson hesitated then decided that if there was going to be something between them then _he_ had to establish a few things early on. If he didn't then House would likely walk right over the top of him and that would not be a good thing. So he wriggled over until he was lying next to House and slid one hand onto the older man's stomach. He felt House flinch briefly then, just when he was thinking he'd possibly made a big mistake, he felt House's hand cover his then he entwined their fingers. Wilson smiled and slowly dropped off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here's the start of the actual storyline. I will warn you that the medical condition mentioned here on in is rather unpleasant and horrific. It is also real though I have taken a few liberties for the story.

* * *

House leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, one hand resting lightly on the handle of his cane. He tilted his head back and let a smug look settle on his face as his thoughts drifted back to the previous night.

"I've got a case for you."

Chase's satisfied voice stopped those thoughts before they could even begin and he turned his head to glare at the young intensivist.

"Sarah Hooper. Twenty-eight year old female brought in by the paramedics," Chase continued, rather blithely ignoring the glare. "Suffering from facial tics and involuntary muscle spasming and palsy."

House ratcheted the glare up a couple notches when Chase stopped there. "That's all?"

Chase smiled triumphantly as he held out the file. "The paramedics had to sedate her. She's a secretary in a legal firm downtown. She seemed fine, if a little under the weather, this morning. Just after lunch she suddenly turned around and attacked a co-worker. She kicked and punched the co-worker then she tried to bite his face. When she was pulled off him, she turned on herself and bit off and swallowed the top joint of her own left index finger before anyone could stop her. She then attacked the people that tried to stop her. They eventually had to get her lying on the floor facedown with people sitting on her arms and legs. They turned her over when the paramedics arrived and found that she'd bitten at her bottom lip so hard she'd actually bitten part of it off and swallowed it. The paramedics sedated her and brought her in."

"Well now, _that's_ interesting," House said as he snatched the file and opened it. "Any history of violence?"

"Not according to her co-workers," Chase replied. "And her parents are dead. She's an only child. We couldn't exactly talk to her as she's still unconscious."

House pushed himself to his feet and limped out into the conference room with Chase behind him. He threw the case file on the table headed for the white board. Foreman and Cameron looked at him expectantly as Chase sat down. House looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. Chase took that as the prompting it was and explained their new case to his colleagues.

"So…what could explain these symptoms?" House said once Chase had finished.

There was silence for a moment.

"Facial tics, involuntary spasming and palsy indicate some kind of neurological disorder," Foreman said slowly.

"But all at once and with such a sudden onset?" Cameron objected.

"Brain tumour?" Foreman offered.

"Is that a suggestion or a guess?" House said acidly. "You haven't explained the sudden aggression and the self-harm."

"Brain tumours can cause behavioural changes," Chase said. "I suppose that could include aggression and self-harm."

House nodded once as he wrote 'brain tumour' on the board. "Alright. Brain tumour."

"Tourette's Syndrome produces the physical symptoms and can involve self-harming," Foreman said with a frown.

"But Tourette's Syndrome doesn't have a sudden onset. It presents in childhood," House countered even as he wrote it down. "Nor does it usually involve aggression towards others."

"Sydenham chorea," Cameron offered.

House gave her a speculative look. "St Vitus dance? Hmm, interesting choice. Explains the facial tics and the spasms and generally occurs in females."

"But St Vitus dance occurs in _young_ girls," Chase objected. "Most often between the ages of five and fifteen and our patient is twenty-eight. And it doesn't explain the aggression and self-harm. And, according to her co-workers, she hasn't been sick lately. Sydenham chorea is a manifestation of rheumatic fever."

"Alright, get her a CT scan and an MRI for the tumour," House ordered. "We need to get a history so let's let the sedative wear off. You might want to restrain her. And give her Diazepam for the muscle spasms. Start with 2mg four times a day. Let's see if we can get that under control. It's likely those spasms are partially responsible for the self-harming."

Cameron, Foreman and Chase stood and headed out of the conference room while House frowned at the white board. A brain tumour seemed the most likely option but something about that just didn't seem right. The collection of symptoms was unusual but _could_ be answered by a brain tumour. He shook his head and limped back to his office; he had some delayed and probably delightful thinking to do. And a medical book to read.

* * *

Chase, Cameron and Foreman watched their patient as she twitched and stirred on the bed even while being held firmly in the restraints. 

"I thought you said the sedative should have worn off by now," Foreman said to Chase.

"It should have," Chase replied. "They only gave her a very light dose to get her here and it's been nearly two hours. She should be awake."

They made a few attempts to rouse the woman but none were successful.

"She doesn't have to be awake for the CT scan or the MRI," Cameron said decisively. "And we can always restrain her head so that she doesn't move."

Foreman nodded. "The Diazepam will have to wait."

The three doctors moved forward and prepared to take Sarah Hooper down to radiology. Once they had finished they took their still-sleeping patient back to her room and the films to House. They weren't surprised to find Dr Wilson waiting in House's office when they got here. However on examination of the films one thing was very clear.

"No brain tumour," House said decisively.

"Definitely not," Wilson agreed. "The tumour would have to be reasonably advanced for the kind of symptoms you've described and there aren't even signs of a _small_ tumour here."

"She wasn't awake either," Chase offered.

House glanced over his shoulder before turning and giving his team a narrow look. "How long ago was she sedated?"

"Long enough that it should have worn off," Chase replied. "She _was_ twitching a bit."

"Did you try _waking_ her?" House asked impatiently.

"Yes," Cameron replied. "She didn't respond."

"So she's not asleep, she's unconscious," House said, his eyes narrowing. "What do the facial tics look like?"

His team looked slightly baffled at the question.

"Er, she's grimacing," Chase said slowly, trying to follow House's train of thought.

"Grimacing," House repeated musingly. "With muscle spasming. Is it regular?"

"Yes," Cameron replied.

"Like you'd see in someone with Huntington's disease?"

Cameron frowned. "Yes, I suppose so."

House started to limp back and forth. "And she's twitching even though she's unconscious."

He limped back and forth for a few more minutes as he thought. Then he stopped and turned back to his team.

"Test her urine for the concentrations of uric acid and creatinine and get the urate to creatinine ratio," he ordered sharply. "And get a blood sample and test her HPRT enzyme activity."

Cameron opened her mouth but House cut her off abruptly. "Don't ask questions. Just do the tests."

He glared at his team until they left hurriedly then Wilson walked over and leaned on the table.

"Uric acid, creatinine and HPRT," Wilson said with an odd expression on his face. "What exactly are you testing for?"

"Lesch-Nyhan syndrome," House replied.

Wilson went blank for a moment as he thought. "I'm fairly sure I've heard of it but I can't remember the details."

"It's a rare genetic disorder," was all House would say.

Wilson's next question was interrupted by Chase shoving the door open. "There's another one! Just brought into the ER. Twenty-one year old college student. Same symptoms. Facial tics, muscle spasms, palsy. This one attacked her roommate."

Chase left as quickly as he'd arrived and House and Wilson exchanged glances.

"What are the odds of two people presenting with the _same_ genetic disorder on the same day?" Wilson asked.

"Better than two _women_ presenting with Lesch-Nyhan on the same day," House said as he headed for the door, leaving Wilson to frown over his answer.

Wilson almost headed back to his own office but his curiousity instead had him heading into House's office and he dug around among the medical books until he found one that listed Lesch-Nyhan syndrome. He read the few paragraphs of information and gaped slightly, realising what House meant by his comment. Lesch-Nyhan syndrome was a recessive genetic disorder caused by a mutation in the gene for the enzyme HPRT or hypoxanthine-guanine phosphoribosyltransferase and the HPRT gene was located on the X chromosome. Males with Lesch-Nyhan syndrome did not have children and as such a woman should not be presenting with it at all, let alone _two_ women. Add to that the fact that those with Lesch-Nyhan showed their first symptoms as infants, _not_ adults and you ended up with quite a conundrum.

"Damn," he murmured as he put the book away. "I said he needed a case but I was hoping for one he might be able to solve."

For a moment he debated staying to see what was going to happen next but then he looked at his watch and sighed. He had an appointment with a patient and a phone call to make.

* * *

House watched from the corridor as his team settled the second woman into the restraints then he glanced down at the case file. Rebecca Upjohn, twenty-one year old Commerce student from Princeton University. Her roommate, Susan McIntyre, had reported Rebecca felt ill this morning and had not gone to her classes. Susan had returned this evening to find Rebecca beating her head against the wall hard enough to split the skin and gnawing on her own fingers. When the roommate had walked in Rebecca had attacked her, screaming and scratching and then finally biting hard enough to tear a chunk of flesh out of Susan's arm. Susan had shoved Rebecca away and Rebecca had hit her head against the wall, apparently hard enough to knock her unconscious. 

House wondered at that last bit as he watched the young woman on the bed twitch and shift. He limped over and opened the sliding door.

"Make sure you do the same tests on Miss…" He looked down at the folder. "Upjohn as you did on…the other one."

"Sarah Hooper," Cameron said almost automatically.

"Whatever," House said dismissively, tossing the file to her. "Get me those test results."

He closed the door and limped back to his office, not at all displeased to find Wilson sitting in the chair in front of his desk with a contemplative look on his face. He prodded Wilson with his cane as he limped around to his chair and pulled out his pill bottle, quickly swallowing one before looking over at his friend. Wilson's gaze rested on the bottle before House shoved it back in his pocket then the oncologist looked up.

"How could they have Lesch-Nyhan syndrome? They're women," Wilson said curiously.

"That, Dr Wilson, is a very good question," House said as he leaned back in his chair.

"You have to be wrong."

House gave him a scandalised look and Wilson rolled his eyes.

"It _is_ possible."

"When was I last wrong?" House asked archly.

"Do I have to answer that?" Wilson looked amused.

"Well, if you're too chicken, you could always answer the question of whether you made that phone call today," House countered.

Wilson sighed. "Yes, I did. Then I called Julie. She's not very happy with me."

"Should I hide?" House asked, only half-joking. "Or gird my loins?"

"I didn't tell her about….us," Wilson replied. "Anyway, she wants to talk so I said I'd go home tonight."

"Well, if she throws you out, you already have a key."

Wilson gave him a grateful smile. "I know. Thank you."

House waved an idle hand then tried for a leer again. "Entirely prompted by my own self-interest, of course."

"Of course," Wilson replied with a tiny smile, whether for the attempted leer or the comment House didn't know. He paused. "We should talk about what happened last night."

House blinked. "Now?"

Wilson gave a shrug that was the epitome of false casualness. "We're both here, we both have the time and if we don't we're both going to find reasons _not_ to talk about it."

"What's to talk about?" House said dismissively, leaning back in his chair. "You like me, I like you, warm fuzzies all round."

"Yes, well, completely leaving aside the issue of how _I_ got to this situation for the moment, I am curious as to how _you_ got there," Wilson said, determined to get some answers. "It…wasn't what I expected."

House tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. It was clear from his body language that he didn't want to discuss this but Wilson was determined.

"Why? Was it _bad_?" House said with a hint of anger.

Wilson gave an exasperated sigh. "No. On the contrary, I enjoyed it very much. But I _was_ surprised. It's not like you've ever given any indication you liked…men."

"Who says I do?" House countered.

"That kiss was pretty convincing to me," Wilson replied with a small smile. "Or maybe it's just me you like."

"I'm impressed," House said finally looking over at Wilson. "I thought that kind of arrogance only came from me."

"Well, at least it got your attention," Wilson said archly then he sighed. "Greg, I just need to know that this is what you really want and that you're not just being…kind."

House froze then gave his friend an exasperated look. "Do I ever do things to be _kind_?"

"That's all I needed to know," Wilson replied with some relief.

"Now that we've finished this teenage girl moment," House said acidly, "don't you have patients to see?"

"Yes, I do actually," Wilson replied with a quirk of his lips as he stood. "I'll probably be over after I've spoken to Julie. I can't imagine that's going to go too well so I imagine it will end with me being thrown out of our house."

House looked at him curiously. "If apathy has been the only thing holding you together, why would she get upset?"

"House, if I understood women, do you think I'd be in this position?"

The comment startled a laugh out of House and Wilson left the office with a feeling of accomplishment.

* * *

Chase looked down at the results he'd just been handed and frowned. He then looked over at his colleagues as they headed for the Diagnostic Medicine conference room. 

"So do either of you know why we just tested those women for their urate to creatinine ratio and for HPRT activity?"

"I know why those tests are usually done but I just can't figure out why we did them," Foreman replied. "What do the results say?"

Chase flipped the folder open. "Sarah Hooper's urate to creatinine level is four point six. Rebecca Upjohn's is three point eight. And both of them show extremely low levels of HPRT activity."

Foreman frowned. "That just doesn't make sense."

"What were they being tested for?" Cameron asked.

Foreman's frown deepened. "Those two tests are used to diagnose Lesch-Nyhan syndrome."

"I don't think I've heard of that one," Cameron said after a moment.

"But what's the problem?" Chase added. "We know what they've got now we treat it."

"Except they're _women_," Foreman said. "Women don't get this disorder. The gene's located on the X-chromosome and the boys affected don't have children. And sufferers present as children, not _adults_."

"Okay, that's a problem," Chase said, looking slightly surprised. "So maybe it's something else?"

"The only other thing lack of HPRT causes is _gout_," Foreman said irritably. "Not self-harm and violence."

By this time they had arrived back and Cameron went to tell House about the results. He limped out of his office swiftly and grabbed the results from Chase, looking them over with a frown.

"How could they have Lesch-Nyhan syndrome?" Foreman burst out after a few minutes.

"Maybe they're carriers and something's happened to allow the faulty gene to be expressed," Cameron suggested.

"Maybe they're not carriers and a mutation occurred," Chase suggested. The others stared at him. "What?" he said defensively. "It's not out of the realms of possibility."

"There's a genetic test available for the Lesch-Nyhan gene," House said firmly. "Test them both."

Foreman nodded and headed out the door. He seemed particularly anxious to find an answer to this question. House then started issuing some orders.

"Cameron, go and talk to…Miss Harper…"

"Hooper," Cameron corrected.

"Whatever," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Go and talk to her co-workers and find out whatever you can about her. Since it doesn't look like she's going to wake up any time soon. Then go and talk to the second girl's roommate."

"What do you want me to do?" Chase asked brightly.

"Go and drag Foreman out of the lab and have a look where they live," House replied.

"What are we looking for?" Cameron asked, looking a little baffled. "If it's a genetic disorder, what are we supposed to find?"

"Anything that suggests a family history of Lesch-Nyhan!" House said irritably. "What else would you be looking for? And anything that might give us some indication of why the onset was so late in life."

Cameron and Chase nodded and scurried out of the room. House looked down at the file containing the test results and limped back into his office. He wasn't sure whether things were getting clearer or muddier.


	3. Chapter 3

House was slouched on the couch, staring at the TV without really seeing anything when he heard the sound of a key in the front door. He looked over in time to see Wilson walk in and raised an eyebrow at the other man's demeanour. Wilson looked exhausted and just a touch frustrated.

"You survived," House observed before turning back to the TV.

He heard a sigh and the sound of a largish bag dropping to the floor behind him and then another bag being dropped on top of that.

"I think so," Wilson replied wearily. "She guessed."

House didn't need to ask what had been guessed. "You always were a terrible liar."

Wilson walked around and collapsed bonelessly onto the couch. "I suppose so."

"Is she coming over to remove my testicles?" House asked. "Because I'm sure she blames me."

Wilson gave a snort that might have held some humour. "No, she seems inclined to leave your testicles where they are."

"Ah, good," House said sagely. "I might find some use for them at some point and I'd like them to be where they're supposed to be."

"So would I for that matter," Wilson said with a ghost of a smile as he let his head drop down onto the back of the couch. "I do have some plans for those testicles."

There was a moment of gratifying silence from House and Wilson felt his smile widen into something more genuine.

"So how bad is she going to make this?" House asked after clearing his throat.

"I think this one is going to be relatively painless," Wilson replied, scrubbing his face with one hand and briefly regretting the end of the banter. "I think she's been seeing someone."

"She's having an affair?" House sounded surprised.

"I didn't ask but from the expression on her face at one point I'd say it's a good chance. She looked a little guilty," Wilson said heavily. "She wants the house though."

"I didn't think you'd want it," House replied.

Wilson let a smile drift across his face. "No, she's welcome to it. I don't need it and it's got too many stairs."

House scowled briefly, knowing what that last comment meant. He grabbed the remote and, with a curt motion, switched the TV off. Wilson looked up at the sudden silence and sighed at the expression on House's face.

"Would you _really_ want to leave here?" he asked pointedly. "I thought you liked your apartment."

House scowled again and shrugged. "The acoustics are good."

"Exactly," Wilson said. "I don't want the house, Greg."

House dropped the remote on the table and leaned back on the couch. "Guilt offering?" he said a little snidely.

"Practicality," Wilson replied, unperturbed. "If I wanted to make a guilt offering, I'd have to go back further than Julie."

House gave his friend a startled look and Wilson smirked.

"How long?" House demanded.

"If I'm really honest with myself, before the infarction," Wilson admitted. "I just didn't want to admit it to anyone, let alone to myself or you. I was married, you had Stacy," He gave House a challengingly look. "What about you?"

House looked rather uncomfortable. "You stayed," he said quietly. "You were the only one. The only one I couldn't scare off and the only one where in the end, I didn't really try."

Wilson gave House a wry smile. "I'd have stayed even if you had tried." He paused and the wry smile became mischievous. "But do you mean to tell me we've been wasting all this time?"

The sly comment seemed to bring House back to himself and he pushed himself to his feet. "Well, let's not waste any more," he said with an exaggerated leer as he limped towards the bedroom.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "What am I getting myself into?" he muttered as he obediently followed.

* * *

The next morning Wilson woke to the sound of House's pager going off. The man in question was draped partially over him, his bad leg resting on top of Wilson's own. He drew in a startled breath when House's arm suddenly stretched out and grabbed the pager from the bedside table. He hadn't realised that House was awake. 

"What now?" House muttered as he stared at the number displayed on the pager then in a careful move he rolled over, making a strangled noise as his leg announced itself for the morning.

Wilson slowly sat up as House grabbed the phone and jabbed at the number pad then turned the bedside light on.

"What is it?" House barked down the phone as Wilson reached over for the orange bottle sitting next to the phone.

He picked the bottle up and opened it, briefly counting the number of pills then checking the date on the label.

"When?" House said sharply. "Alright, I'll be in soon. Admit her."

House thumped the phone down and looked around to see Wilson holding a single Vicodin out to him, a neutral expression on his face. He took the pill and quickly dry-swallowed it.

"I didn't take one last night," he said flatly as he reached for his cane. "Can you drive me in?"

Wilson blinked as he realised House was right. From the moment he'd gotten to the apartment until he'd watched House fall asleep from satisfied weariness, the older man had not taken one of his pills. He gave House a look of surprise.

"I didn't need one so I didn't take one," House said with a scowl as he headed for the bathroom. "I'm an addict but I'm not _that_ much of an addict." He poked his head out of the bathroom and smirked. "Besides you're almost as good as prescription drugs." He disappeared back into the bathroom.

Wilson snorted and put the bottle back down, unsure as to whether that was a compliment or not…though knowing House, it probably was. He glanced at the clock and winced. It was just after half past five in the morning. He crawled out of the bed and walked into the living room to grab his bags. He returned to the bedroom and pulled out a suit, tie and shirt from one of the bags and the rest of what he needed from the other. He then headed for the bathroom himself.

Half an hour later both men were walking out of the door and they headed for Wilson's car.

"You're not going to drive the 'Vette in?" Wilson asked with mild surprise.

House shook his head. "Too soon."

"You've driven after taking Vicodin before," Wilson observed as they got in.

House grimaced. "Not in the morning. I usually allow myself more time."

"Ah," Wilson said in understanding. "I take it you've got another patient."

House nodded. "The roommate of the second girl was brought in about an hour ago. She was staying with some friends and she woke them up when she punched and kicked a hole in one of the walls. Then she attacked them before chewing off her bottom lip."

"The _roommate_?" Wilson said with disbelief as he drove. "If two women presenting with Lesch-Nyhan is heading into the realms of the impossible then where does this lie?" He frowned. "It almost sounds like an infection of some kind."

"I know," House replied. "But I've never heard of a virus or bacteria causing these symptoms. They're too specific."

The rest of the trip was made in silence and when they reached the hospital, House limped quickly up to where his latest patient was resting. He stood outside until his team saw him then headed for his office. He wasn't at all surprised to see Wilson had gone straight to the Diagnostic Medicine office and he spared his friend a brief smile when he was presented with a cup of coffee. When his ducklings arrived, he levelled an arch look at them.

"Well?"

"Susan McIntyre, twenty year old Commerce student and roommate of Rebecca Upjohn," Chase began. "She was brought in by a couple of friends this morning. She stayed at their apartment last night because she was upset about Rebecca and they were woken by the sounds of thumping and swearing. They walked into her room to find her kicking and punching the wall and swearing violently even though most of her bottom lip was gone. When she saw them, she leapt at them and punched them as well. They threw her off, she hit the wall then collapsed."

"We've run the same tests on her as the others," Cameron added. "Her urate to creatinine ratio is two point six and her HPRT activity is low but higher than the other two."

"The lab's running the genetic tests on the first two women," Foreman said. "But it'll be the end of the day before we get it. They're treating it as a priority," he added at the expression on House's face.

House turned to Cameron. "What did you find out?"

"Sarah Hooper lived a pretty routine life," Cameron said. "She worked, went home, came back to work. Brought lunch in from home. Occasionally went out with her co-workers on a Friday night. Not much change to her routine. The only thing different this week was that she went on a date two days ago."

"Where did they go?" House asked. "And who was he?"

"Dinner and a movie," Cameron replied. "Her co-workers said she was late in the next day and they're of the opinion that she…er, got lucky. She didn't give them much in the way of details about him. Just a name. Michael."

Cameron looked slightly awkward for a moment but shoved it down when she realised that House was not paying any attention to her.

"Did she tell them where they ate?" he asked.

"That new Italian place, Centrale," Cameron replied.

"What about where she lives?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Chase replied. "No medications other than over the counter paracetamol and ibuprofen and contraceptives. Pictures of her parents and what looked like a brother. No indications of Lesch-Nyhan. The brother looked like he was in his mid-twenties when the picture was taken."

"Found a couple of photo albums," Foreman added. "No indications of anything genetic in those either."

House frowned. "What about the second girl?"

"Nothing unusual in the room," Chase said promptly. "Again only over the counter paracetamol. Both girls were using contraceptives. We spoke to Susan McIntyre last night. She said that they were living a pretty routine college life. Classes and parties. Rebecca worked weekends at a clothing shop downtown. Susan worked three-four nights a week behind the bar at a place called the Hairy Canary. They went to a frat party a couple of nights ago that lasted until dawn and got pretty drunk, had some fun, apparently fooled around a bit then went back to their dorm. Nothing much other than that."

"No commonalities between Sarah Hooper and the two college girls," House mused.

"Not that we could find," Foreman said. "But without being able to speak to them it's a bit hard to tell."

"They're still unconscious?" Wilson asked.

Cameron nodded. "They haven't shown any signs of waking either."

"Start them on IV fluids and Allopurinal," House ordered. "If we let the uric acid build up, they'll end up with kidney damage…and gout. And find out how the lab is going with those genetic tests."

The trio of doctors nodded and rose. House's voice stopped them before they got out of the door.

"And get blood cultures from all three."

They stopped and turned to face their boss who was standing and scowling into his coffee.

"You think they have an infection? Viral or bacterial?" Cameron asked with surprise.

"I don't know," House replied with exaggerated patience. "That's what the blood cultures are for. Well? Get on with it."

The trio walked out the door and House limped into his office and sat down in his chair behind the desk. Wilson had followed him in and settled in the chair in front of the desk.

"Do you really think they have an infection?" he asked.

"Don't you have patients of your own, Dr Wilson?" House growled.

Wilson didn't react; he knew that growl. House was frustrated that he couldn't get a handle on what was happening with these women. He glanced casually at his watch instead of moving and took a sip of his coffee.

"It's not even seven yet," he said calmly. "My patients probably won't be awake at the moment. And the coffee here is better."

House gave a half-heartedly scowl then grumbled under his breath. "I don't _know_ if they have an infection. The fact that the roommate showed up with the same symptoms says it's a possibility but the symptoms match Lesch-Nyhan which, frankly, _none_ of them should have."

"There's not some obscure disease that could cause these symptoms?" Wilson asked, more out of curiousity than because he actually believed it was possible.

"If there is it's so obscure I haven't heard of it," House grumbled. "And I've spent the better part of the last day looking for it."

Wilson nodded then frowned. "Weren't you meant to be in the clinic yesterday?"

"I had something better to do," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"And does Cuddy know that?" Humour was laced through Wilson's voice.

"Actually, yes," came House's surprising reply. "She came up here with whip and chair in hand…" He trailed off. "Now _there's_ a mental image," he continued after a few moments thought. "Anyway, she came up here with whip and chair in hand to beat me into submission."

"And you told her about your two patients," Wilson prompted when House didn't continue.

"Eventually."

Wilson considered that response then shook his head. "Something tells me I really don't want to know."

"Chicken," House said with amused scorn.

"What I don't know I can't lie to her about," Wilson pointed out. "I presume she let you off clinic duty then."

"For now," House replied looking reasonably pleased. "Even better, I don't have to make the time up."

Wilson blinked. "How did you manage…wait, nevermind. I don't want to know."

House rolled out that look of amused scorn again then his attention was drawn by movement in the corridor. Cameron was actually _running_ towards the office. She burst through the door, looking shocked.

"There's been a _fourth_ woman brought in with the same symptoms," she gasped out. "And Sarah Hooper just woke up."

House looked intent. "Has she said anything?"

"No but she did try and bite Chase," Cameron replied. "She's fighting the restraints."

"Interesting," House observed, putting his coffee cup down with a bang and pushing himself to his feet. "Get the new one admitted and run those tests on her."

Cameron nodded and left. Wilson rose and walked along side House as they headed for Sarah Hooper's room. They arrived at the room just in time to see Sarah take another bite at Chase as he tried to tighten her restraints. The young Australian doctor skipped out of the way with admirable agility and shot a wide-eyed look at Foreman who was tightening the restraints around her ankles. Both of them barely spared House and Wilson a glance when they walked in.

House limped over to the side of the bed, rather warily staying out of range of both Sarah's violent attacks and Chase's evasive tactics.

"Miss Hooper," House said patiently then he suddenly barked, "Sarah!"

The woman's head jerked in his direction and then, much to everyone's surprise, she began to mutter, her voice sounding slightly odd due to the missing section of bottom lip.

"Sorry! Sorry!" she gasped, her gaze turning to Chase. "Don't….mean…don't…want…"

House leaned forward, his expression intent. "You don't want to hurt him?"

Sarah nodded jerkily. "Stop…me!"

Then much to the horror of everyone in the room, she began to gnaw ferociously on her top lip. In seconds, the lip started to bleed and Chase leapt forward to try and stop her. His movement instead distracted her and she once again strained against the restraints and snapped at him. He lurched backwards and only Wilson's quick grab and yank sideways stopped him from careering into House.

House stepped back against the wall and ordered Foreman to give her Diazepam as Wilson steadied Chase. He then stepped forward and drew Sarah's attention as Foreman administered the sedative. They all stepped back as they waited for the diazepam to take effect.

Sarah slumped back onto the bed rather suddenly and her eyes became hooded and dull. House stepped forward once more and her gaze shifted over to him again. Wilson and Chase tensed as Foreman watched warily.

"Sarah?" House said.

Sarah blinked slowly. "Help…me," she whispered.

"Do you know Rebecca Upjohn?" House asked.

Sarah was quiet then she shook her head slowly. "No."

"Susan McIntyre?"

Again Sarah shook her head.

"Who did you go on your date with?" House asked.

"Mi…Michael," Sarah slurred.

"Michael who?"

"Michael…Larette," she whispered.

"Did you have sex with him?" House asked intently.

"Yes," came the slow answer.

"Do you know where he lives?"

Sarah shook her head. "Picked…me…up…work."

The woman's eyes fluttered momentarily then closed and a long, deep breath escaped her as she settled back into unconsciousness. House stared at her with frustration for a moment then looked over at Chase.

"Yeah, I know," the intensivist said with a world-weary smile. "Go and find out everything I can about Michael Larette."

"See? They can be trained," House observed to sardonically Wilson as Chase left the room.

Wilson's lips twitched. "So you've finally got Chase _House_ trained. Well done."

House's lips also twitched and low amused snort came from Foreman. House's gaze flickered over to the other member of his team.

"I've got a long way to go with _that_ one," he said archly, gesturing with one thumb.

"I think Foreman's feral," Wilson said with an amused glance at the neurologist.

House's response was interrupted by the arrival of Lisa Cuddy.

"You have _four_ patients with the same symptoms," she said without preamble. "Is this a problem?"

"Well, of course it's a _problem_," House responded. "I'm sure these women didn't _plan_ this. Particularly since they don't know each other…except for the two college girls."

Cuddy's lips thinned slightly. "Is this caused by a disease? Do we need to put these women in quarantine? Or call in the CDC?"

"I'm still waiting for test results," House replied with a hint of frustration. "So if you want throw some influence behind _that_."

"House!" Cuddy said sharply. "Do we need to call in the CDC?"

"I don't know," House replied acidly. "The women are presenting with all the symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan which is marginally impossible but I won't know what's going on until I get the lab results back."

Cuddy stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "I'll go and speak to the lab techs."

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room after one brief, worried glance at Sarah Hooper.


	4. Chapter 4

Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I've been sick lately and it's been kind of hard to get into the appropriate House mindset with my mind full of fluff!

* * *

House had retreated back to his office after Cuddy's visit, leaving his team to look after the four women now in his care. When Wilson arrived just before lunch, he found his friend poring through a medical text. Other books lay on the desk and the floor, most looking like they had been discarded in frustration. 

"No luck I take it," Wilson said as he sat down.

House gave him a flat, unfriendly look. "I'm not even entirely sure what I'm looking for," he growled.

"The lab still hasn't delivered then?"

House shook his head then leaned back in his chair. "The second girl, the college student, came round about an hour ago. Had the same kind of reaction as the Hooper woman."

"I hope you told your team to be careful," Wilson said seriously. "If this _is_ a virus you don't want them getting infected as well."

House waved a hand. "They didn't need me telling them that." He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. "The roommate presenting with whatever this is makes me think it _is_ a virus."

"Infected by the bite?" Wilson asked and House nodded. "Short incubation time. She was bitten in the evening and showed the first symptoms the next morning."

"Unless she got it somewhere else," House replied.

'The frat party?" Wilson suggested. "Didn't Chase say they'd both been there?"

"Yes but both the first two women went out the same night," House pointed out. "Sarah Hooper on a date and the college girl to the frat party. Now unless Sarah and her date went to the frat party as well…"

"Then their paths didn't cross," Wilson finished. "What about the guy she went out with?"

"Haven't found him yet," House replied, still staring at the ceiling. "Chase is still looking."

Wilson stood and walked around the desk. He leaned against the shelves behind House and let his hand run through House's hair. The older man closed his eyes and gave a tiny sigh, bringing a small smile to Wilson's face. They stayed like that for several minutes, Wilson continuing to card through House's hair. Then he let his hand rest momentarily on the older man's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's go and have lunch," he said in the companionable silence.

House didn't open his eyes. "Not hungry."

"Don't care," Wilson countered. "I'm not picking you up if you fall over from malnourishment. You didn't have breakfast so you _are_ having lunch."

"Your Jewish mother act is scarily accurate," House said as he opened his eyes.

"Get up," Wilson said with an amused snort. "I'll even pay."

"Hmmph," House grumped as he pushed himself to his feet. Wilson moved forward almost unconsciously to provide House with someone to lean against as he balanced himself. "Lucky for you I'm a cheap date."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "I'll remember that."

He paused and glanced out into the conference room and corridor. Once he'd ascertained that both were currently empty, he took advantage of their close proximity to lean forward and kiss House. The older man stiffened in surprise then relaxed and returned the kiss. Wilson reluctantly pulled away and met House's gaze. The older man looked pleased, surprised and just a fraction languid. As Wilson watched, House shook that off and raised a curious eyebrow.

Wilson chose to deliberately misunderstand. "Sorry to finish that too soon. Your fault. This office is like a fishbowl."

"We'll have to try it in your office then," House replied as he limped towards the door. "Less windows."

Wilson closed his eyes briefly at that thought then followed House out of the office. "Now there's a thought," he said blandly and was inwardly delighted at House's startled look. He didn't often manage to do that to House.

* * *

After Wilson had forced House to eat something they separated and went back to their own offices. This despite House's lurid but somewhat half-hearted suggestions regarding Wilson's office and its lack of windows. Wilson had raised an eyebrow and chuckled before suggesting that scarring the ducklings when they tried to deliver the test results House had been waiting for might be fun but could possibly result in House having to interview again. House had shuddered melodramatically at that thought before limping off towards his own office. 

Once he arrived back at his office, House found two thirds of his team sitting around the table in the conference room looking tense and worried. He rolled his eyes and ignored them as he headed for his office. He'd only just pushed the door open when the door to the conference room slammed open and Foreman walked looking both confused and pissed.

"They don't carry the mutated gene for Lesch-Nyhan," he announced as House swivelled awkwardly and returned to the conference room. "But they do have a viral infection."

"What kind of infection?" House asked.

"HIV," Foreman replied, handing the file containing the results to House.

House propped himself against the bench and opened the file. They only had the results of the genetic tests on the first two women at the moment though House had no doubt that the other two would be equally free of the genetic mutation for Lesch-Nyhan. But all four women were positive for HIV.

"HIV doesn't cause the symptoms we've seen," Cameron objected. "Not even when it progresses to AIDS."

"It doesn't present so quickly either," Chase added.

House closed the file and stared down at the floor for a moment before looking up at his team. "Have the genetics lab test the virus. I want a full sequence done," he said flatly. "And call the CDC."

His team stared at him in bafflement for a moment then realisation dawned on Chase's face first.

"Someone's _engineered_ this virus?" he said, disbelief and a hint of horror in his voice.

House didn't answer the question. "Call the police as well. We need to find this Michael Larette that the first girl went out with."

"Can we do anything for the women?" Cameron asked quietly.

House was silent for a moment. "Not unless you have a cure for HIV in your pocket. Also I want you to redo the urate to creatinine ratio and HPRT activity tests for all the women. I want to know what's happening."

The trio of doctors exchanged sombre glances then headed off to carry out House's instructions. House stared down at the file for a moment then into his office. He almost headed inside then realised that this situation actually did need to be brought to the attention of Cuddy. He tucked the file under one arm and headed out of the conference room.

He didn't bother knocking when he got to Cuddy's office. He never had before and didn't really see any reason to start now. Cuddy was on the phone when he walked in and she shot him an irritated glare that quickly modulated into a look of surprise. House could only assume that his own expression was giving things away. That annoyed him.

"Can I call you back?" Cuddy said into the phone then she hung up and looked at House. "Well?"

"We have a problem," House said tossing the file onto Cuddy's desk. "The women are infected with HIV."

Cuddy blinked then frowned. "HIV doesn't produce the symptoms those women have."

"No, _really_," House said with exaggerated surprise. "I think it's been genetically engineered."

"Have you called the CDC?" Cuddy asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

"One of the ducklings is taking care of that," House said with a wave of his hand then he looked her up and down and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "I just thought I should let you know. You can put on the blue suit, impress the boys from Boston. I'm sure they'll like the cleavage."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Is there anything else you needed, Dr House?"

"There are many things I need, only some of which you can supply," House said smugly as he reclaimed the file and limped out of the office.

"Thank goodness for that," came the muttered comment from behind him and he almost grinned.

When he got back to his office he found Wilson sprawled in the chair in front of his desk and he poked the younger man with his cane.

"Here you are again. No wonder those rumours keep circulating," he said as he sat.

"No wonder," Wilson replied blandly.

"Don't you have your own patients?"

"Well, yes, I do but right now yours are more interesting," Wilson replied, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "What's cancer compared to an obscure genetic disorder masquerading as a virus?"

"I think it's the other way around actually," House replied morosely.

"You mean it _is_ a virus?" Wilson asked.

House grunted. "HIV."

"Really?" Wilson said with surprise then realisation hit him. "Oh, that's…not good. Antivirals won't work. Are you going to start them on HAART?"

House grimaced. "I want to wait for the results of the second set of tests. The virus has been engineered so that means that standard treatment probably goes out the window."

"Have you called the CDC?" Wilson asked. "This has to be deliberate."

"One of the ducklings is seeing to it," House replied. "They'll probably invade tomorrow."

"So what's the problem?" Wilson asked patiently. "You've been distracted ever since you walked in."

House leaned back in his chair. "I think it's safe to say that the man the first girl went out with has _something_ to do with this since going out with him is the only different thing she's done in the last few months."

"Makes sense," Wilson said. "I assume you think he's responsible for infecting the girls?"

"Mmm," House grunted. "Though the _how_ on the first two girls is eluding me at the moment. It's the _why_ that's more interesting though."

"Why is he infecting them," Wilson said softly. "And with something as horrible as this."

"That is indeed the question, Dr Wilson," House said as he stared at the ceiling.

There was silence for a while then Wilson said quietly, "Hate."

"Exactly," House replied. "If it was just scientific curiosity then the victims would be random, male and female, all ages, all types. However four female victims, all aged within six years of each other, all with brown, shoulder length hair, blue eyes, slim build, medium height kind of points to something a little more specific."

"Do you think the choice of Lesch-Nyhan is significant?" Wilson asked.

"No," House replied. "But I do think the choice of HIV as the carrier virus is significant."

"How?"

"Well, ask yourself this question, Dr Panty Peeler. If you went and shagged that pretty little nurse from Radiology and found out three months later that she had HIV and now you do too, you might be a tad upset, mightn't you?" House said with an arch eyebrow, looking directly at Wilson.

"I…suppose I would," Wilson replied then he smirked. "I might feel the same way if it was that crippled bastard of a doctor from Diagnostic Medicine. But I suppose that would make the victim pattern a bit different to the one we're looking at here."

"Indeed," House replied, returning the smirk. "And last time I checked I was as clean and pure…"

"As what they shovel out of a stable," Wilson finished, humour glinting in his eyes.

"Keep that up and you'll be sleeping on the couch again," House said.

"I think that's a record for me," Wilson replied, his lips quirking. "I've never had the romance die so quickly."

"If you wanted romance, you're sleeping with the wrong doctor," House said.

"Good point," Wilson replied blandly. "I guess I'll have to settle for the sex then."

House raised his eyebrows speculatively. They hadn't really spoken about where this change in their relationship was going other than establishing that they both _wanted_ it to change. They certainly hadn't spoken about the…mechanics of what might happen if things progressed as they normally do in a relationship. It wasn't a topic House usually liked to dwell on. The damage to his leg made certain things a little…difficult at best and downright agonising at worst. Last night's little foray into frottage had been fun mostly because they'd gotten the angles right…very, _very_ right. But actual _sex_ brought with it a barrage of problems that House hadn't had the incentive to think about in a long time.

He let his gaze rest on his friend, now apparently lover, and decided that the younger man was definitely incentive enough to have what was likely to be a very frustrating and probably somewhat embarrassing conversation. And not just because of the limitations his leg placed upon him; Vicodin _did_ have its side effects after all. Though that was a topic that was likely to lead to places that did not involve sex so he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to bring up that part of his problems. However the idea of sex with Wilson was one he was quite enamoured with and he wasn't about to let his addiction get in the way.

But now that he thought about it, part of the reason they had gotten the angles right last night was because Wilson had made _sure_ they were right. So maybe the conversation wouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared. Maybe this was a subject Wilson had already considered independently. Maybe he even had some ideas…

"House?" Wilson said a little warily, breaking into his thoughts.

House blinked and saw the slightly worried look lurking in his friend's eyes. He realised he'd probably been lost in his own thoughts for a touch too long after Wilson's last comment.

"We'll have to stick with the bed then," he replied with a smirk. "Sex on my couch would probably leave one of us permanently damaged." He looked down at his leg. "Hmm, too late."

Relief and something akin to anticipation flickered across Wilson's face. "So that's what did it," he said as blandly as he could manage. "Who knew Stacy was into sex on the couch?"

House shuddered. "Way to kill the mood there," he muttered.

Wilson snorted and looked rather unrepentant. "Probably a good thing," he said then jerked his head slightly towards the conference room and what he'd seen reflected in the glass.

House's team were heading towards his office armed with files. House sighed. "All good things must come to an end."

The door opened abruptly and Foreman handed the file to House. The older doctor opened the file and started reading.

"Their urate to creatinine levels have gone up," he said flatly. "Sarah Hooper and Rebecca Upjohn are already showing signs of joint swelling. And the levels of uric acid are so high that even the Allopurinal isn't going to have much effect."

"We've started monitoring their kidney function," Chase added. "It's not good."

Just then four beepers started sounding an alert. As Wilson watched, House, Foreman, Cameron and Chase all grabbed at their beepers. The three ducklings took off out of the room at a run, Chase in the lead and House pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his cane.

"Sarah Hooper?" Wilson asked as House limped around his desk.

House nodded. "If the test results are anything to go by, her kidneys have failed."

Wilson stood and joined his friend as he headed for his patient's room as quickly as he could manage.

"Are you going to try dialysis?" he asked quietly.

"If she lives," House replied shortly.

"How high were the levels?" Wilson asked.

"High."

House was silent for the rest of the journey. When they got to Sarah Hooper's room they found House's team swarming around the unfortunate woman, desperately trying to revive her. House and Wilson walked through the door and stood at the back of the room, staying out of the way. They watched the three young doctors work frantically first with CPR then with the defibrillator. Finally House stepped forward.

"Chase!" he said harshly. "Enough! Call it."

Chase paused and let the paddles fall from his hands. He looked up at the clock on the wall. "Time of death…2.13 pm." His voice sounded tired and defeated.

House stared down at the young woman lying lifeless on the bed. This was the part about medicine that he hated – when he _knew_ the answer but could do nothing except watch the patient die. He stared at Sarah Hooper for a moment longer then turned his attention to his team.

"Start the other women on dialysis," he ordered. "Let's try and keep them alive until the CDC get here. Check the other hospitals to see if any other women have been brought in with similar symptoms. And where are we with trying to find the man she went out with?"

"Uh, there's no record of a Michael Larette in the phone book and none of her coworkers ever met him," Chase said after a moment. "The police have started looking for him."

House grunted. "Go and check on…on Rebecca Upjohn. She was brought in only a few hours after Miss Hooper."

Cameron nodded and left the room, Foreman close behind her. Chase stayed behind and started cleaning up and taking care of Sarah Hooper. House watched him for a few minutes then limped out of the room, Wilson close behind him.

"There was nothing you could have done," the oncologist said quietly when they got back to House's office.

"I should have had their uric acid levels checked sooner," House snapped as he threw himself into his chair with a wince.

"Lesch-Nyhan takes a decade or two to kill," Wilson said. "There is no way you could have know this viral version would act so quickly."

"I should have anticipated it," House said flatly. "Anyone who _hates_ enough to create something like this is going to make something that hits hard and fast. He probably wants as many women as possible to die before he does."

"You don't know that," Wilson replied firmly. "HIV takes _years_ to develop into AIDS, particularly with the current regime of treatment and who knows _what_ will be developed in the future. You had _no_ way of knowing this viral form of Lesch-Nyhan would act this quickly."

House didn't answer. He merely scowled as he pulled his bottle of pills out. He quickly dry-swallowed one and shoved the bottle back into his pocket. Wilson watched him carefully for a long moment.

"What are you hoping the CDC can achieve?" he asked finally. "You were much quicker to call them in than I thought you'd be."

"They've got better resources for sequencing this thing and doing the epidemiology," House admitted.

"So you weren't surprised to hear that 'Michael Larette' doesn't exist?"

"No," House said with a shake of his head. "I'd have been surprised if he'd used his real name."

Movement in the conference room caught his attention and he pushed himself to his feet with a sigh. "I need to get things organised for the CDC," he said. "And I'm sure you have patients."

Wilson sighed, realising that he wasn't going to get anything else out of his friend. "I'm sure I do. I'll be back around five to see how close you are to leaving."

House nodded and limped out of the room. Wilson followed him, nodding to the team of young doctors who were waiting for House as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Here's the latest chapter! We're starting to get towards the end of this story and it'll have a nice little shock to it at the end...I hope! Oh and my apologies if I've drifted a bit in my Houseian snarking - I've been watching a bit of Blackadder lately and I found House drifting more into George which made things a little bizarre when I was writing it. I think I picked it all up and corrected it though.

* * *

When Wilson returned just after five he found House lying on the floor behind his desk, headphones on and a fixed, taut expression on his face. He leaned against the desk and waited for the older man to acknowledge him. He had a suspicion he knew what had caused House's current position. 

"Rebecca Upjohn?" he said when House finally removed his headphones.

House was silent for a long moment. "About half an hour after the first girl."

Wilson sighed softly. He had long experience in losing patients; it was just something you learned to deal with, if never like, in Oncology. But House had a high survival rate for his patients. He usually managed to solve the problem and send them home. Wilson couldn't remember to last time House had lost _two_ patients in such close proximity to each other and from the same disease.

"The other two?"

"On dialysis," House replied. "For what its worth."

Wilson nodded once. "Ready to leave?"

House was silent then he grunted. "Not much point waiting around here for them to die," he said acidly.

Wilson watched without comment as House levered himself to his feet. "Maybe the CDC will have some answers," he said once House was on his feet.

House snorted. "I'm more worried about the fact that we haven't seen any new cases. The man doing this seems to be working fast. I was expecting another one today."

"I'd be thankful there wasn't a new one," Wilson said honestly as House slowly threw his things in his bag. "Have the police said anything?"

"Nope," House replied.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and gave Wilson an arch look. The younger man returned the look then led the way to the door. They were halfway across the conference room when they saw Cuddy walking down the hall. She pushed the door open and gestured for them to stop; she looked tired and rather harried.

"I've had a call from a Dr Martinson from the CDC," she said briskly. "They'll be here first thing tomorrow morning. He said he'd received the case files but wanted to speak to you and your team as well."

"Wonderful. Be sure to wear that blue suit," House replied with deep sarcasm. "Any other delightful news?"

Cuddy gave him a sharp look. "Make sure you're here," she demanded.

"He'll be here," Wilson said hastily, giving House a nudge towards the door and ignoring the raised eyebrow from Cuddy.

"What was that all about?" House asked as they walked down the corridor. "You denied me the opportunity to play with Cuddy."

"I don't think she's in the mood to play right now," Wilson replied. "You haven't been paying attention this afternoon, have you? Rumours have leaked to the media about the women. She's been fielding calls all day."

House gave his friend a sharp look as they waited for the lift. "Why didn't she say anything?"

"Your ducklings have been shielding you, I think, so I suspect she thinks you already know," Wilson replied with a small smile. "They know as well as I do that you don't often have patients die like this." He cocked his head to one side as the lifts doors opened. "Though to be honest, I'm not entirely sure if they were protecting you from Cuddy or the other way around."

House snorted as they got into the lift. "I've had patients die before."

"But usually not when you know what the answer or at least part of the answer is," Wilson replied.

House waited until the doors had closed before he replied caustically. "Are you expecting me to weep on that expensive suit of yours? Bemoan my fate and curse the heavens."

Wilson merely raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked. "I think I'd call for psych evaluation if you actually did that. Personally I thought it might be best to get you out of here before you start prowling the corridors and frightening the patients." He paused and gave House a look of amusement and what House could only define as sheer mischief and they walked out of the lift towards the front doors. "Though if you want to try life-affirming sex, I'd be all for that too."

House gave Wilson a look that was both a fraction startled and surprisingly predatory then his eyes widened slightly. "Life-affirming sex," he said quietly then he pivoted and headed back to the lift.

"House!" Wilson called after him. When the older man didn't stop, he sighed and followed.

House headed straight up to the room where the third girl, the roommate Susan McIntyre, was lying unconscious. He found Cameron in the room, watching over the woman's dialysis.

"Did we carry out drug tests on any of the women?" he barked, causing Cameron to start.

"Er, no," she stammered after a moment of thought. "Should we have?"

"Can't test _her_. She got it from the bite," House muttered, looking at Susan McIntyre. "Get a urine sample from the fourth woman and test her for the presence of Rohypnol. And check for injection sites."

With that brusque order, House turned and limped out of the room. Wilson was waiting for him outside but proved he'd heard the conversation when he spoke.

"Rohypnol? You don't think these women got it from having sex?"

"The college girl," House said abruptly as they headed back to the lift. "She and her friend were at a frat party. If this guy was comfortable taking out a twenty-eight year old legal secretary then he's going to look a little out of place at a frat party."

"So you think he _was_ at the frat party?" Wilson said, sounding a little confused.

"He has to have been there," House replied.

"Lots of sex at frat parties," Wilson observed.

"You would know," House retorted. "But in these here modern times there's one thing that tends to be remembered even at drunken frat parties."

"Safe sex," Wilson said with a nod. "The women would most likely have insisted on using a condom. Which knocks out the most common way of transmitting HIV. So, he used the Rohypnol in order to have…unsafe sex?"

"I don't think so," House replied. The lift came to a halt and the two men once again headed towards the exit. "Other than Sarah Hooper, I don't think he had sex with them at all."

"Injection site," Wilson muttered, remembering what House had asked Cameron to look for. "He's knocking them out with Rohypnol and injecting the virus. Damn, that's cold. Why don't you think he had sex with Rebecca Upjohn?"

House opened the passenger door of Wilson's car and got with a grimace. "Because why would a reasonably attractive college girl at party full of reasonably attractive college boys run off and have sex with an older man?"

Wilson got in the car and started it. He shot House an amused look as he pulled out of his parking spot. "Some people _like_ older men."

"Just as well or we'd end up miserable and alone," House replied. "But I think her roommate would have noticed if Rebecca had wandered off with an older man."

"Quite likely," Wilson replied, most of his concentration on driving through the evening traffic. "So he slipped her some Rohypnol…then what? Did her roommate report that she showed some of the effects of that drug?"

"Wouldn't matter," House said. "The Rohypnol would have made her feel tired. She probably told her roommate she wanted to get some fresh air. So the roommate wouldn't have worried when Rebecca disappeared. She would have thought she was either still out getting some fresh air or had…"

"Found someone interesting to talk to," Wilson finished.

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" House said. "_Talking_ to each other. Hey, Wilson, let's _talk_ to each other later."

"Okay," Wilson said glibly, watching House out of the corner of his eye as he drove. He was rewarded by the return of that predatory look he'd seen earlier and he struggled to swallow the smirk that threatened. "I guess the Rohypnol also explains why none of the women remember it happening and why Sarah Hooper was late the next morning."

House grunted. "She probably didn't remember what happened the previous night after they got back to her place. Evidence would have told her she had sex but other than that it just would have seemed like she had a _really_ good night."

"Let's hope the police and the CDC can track down this bastard," Wilson said grimly.

House nodded and the rest of the trip was made in silence. Once they got into House's apartment, the older man dropped his bag by the door and stripped off his jacket, leaving it on top of the bag. He then headed for the kitchen. Wilson rolled his eyes and picked up House's jacket hanging it up with his own in the closet. He left his bag beside House's though and followed the older man into the kitchen, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the collar and top button of his shirt.

"I think I have food," House said when he walked in. The older man had the fridge door open and was peering inside. "But I may be wrong."

"Pizza sounds good to me," Wilson replied.

He waited until House closed the fridge door then slid right into House' personal space. The older man turned in surprise then raised an eyebrow both at Wilson's proximity and the expression on his face. Wilson just grinned and kissed him. House returned the kiss with enthusiasm, wrapping his free arm around Wilson's waist, then he pulled back a fraction.

"If you want pizza that's not the way to go about it," he said, sounding slightly breathless.

Wilson viewed this as partial victory; he was still working towards rendering House inarticulate, he just figured it might take more than just kissing to do that.

"That's a good point," he said as he pulled away, smirking at House's sudden frown. He was about to walk out of the kitchen when he suddenly found himself pinned to the wall by House's cane.

"Ow! House!" he protested, trying to remove the cane from his shoulder.

The older man smirked and lowered the cane before hobbling in to pin Wilson to the wall with his body. "_You_ are turning into a tease," House muttered before leaning in and almost cheerfully ravishing Wilson's mouth.

Wilson didn't bother arguing. Mostly he was just enjoying the kiss but there was a small part of him that was a touch relieved. Apart from that first kiss, _he'd_ initiated most of the contact between them and he'd been starting to worry that House really didn't want this. Wilson threw that latter thought out the window when House suddenly switched from exploring his mouth to trailing soft, biting kisses down his throat. A man who didn't want _this_ wouldn't be doing _that_.

When House latched onto the soft skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and bit down, Wilson's head fell back against the wall with a quiet thunk and he moaned. House soothed the mark he'd just made with a quick lick then pulled away from the younger man, ignoring the whimper that emerged from Wilson and smirking.

"Better make sure you keep your collar buttoned up if you don't want any of those pesky awkward questions tomorrow," he said smugly then he limped out of the kitchen muttering, "Now where's that damn phone."

Wilson collapsed against the wall and drew in a deep breath, gently rubbing the new mark on his neck. Okay, he probably deserved that; he _had_ been teasing after all but if House didn't follow up on his actions later on there was going to be trouble. He let out the breath he'd taken and ran a hand through his hair before heading out into the living room.

* * *

Wilson woke for a second morning to the sound of House's pager going off and to the feel of the older man's warm and agreeably naked body draped half over him. While he was quite happy about the second part of this burgeoning routine, he could probably do without the first part. It took a few more seconds to register that unlike the previous morning, House hadn't woken up. He reached out with one hand until he found the lamp on the bedside table and he switched it on. 

He blinked in the sudden light and looked at House. The older man was deeply asleep, something Wilson both approved of and felt rather smug about. He reached out and grabbed the ringing beeper, silencing it and checking the number. He looked over to see if he could reach the phone without moving. He wanted to avoid that if at all possible. Moving would probably wake House and the older man didn't get enough sleep as it was. He saw the phone was in reach and grabbed it, dialling the number on the pager.

Chase answered and was briefly but politely quizzical about why it was Wilson calling him when he'd paged House. Wilson evaded the question and got the details of why House had been paged.

"Okay, I'll wake him," Wilson said with a sigh. Another woman had been brought in exhibiting the symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan. "We'll be there shortly."

He hung up the phone and put it back on the bedside table before deciding the best method to wake House.

* * *

Chase looked at the phone curiously before hanging it up. The young intensivist looked tired and a little ragged. He'd been sleeping in one of the exam rooms in the clinic when the page had come through from the ER. Cameron and Foreman had appeared in the ER shortly after he'd gotten there and he could only assume that they too had not left the hospital and had found their own beds to sleep in. As soon as they'd determined that the young woman did seem to have the same symptoms as their other patients, they admitted her and paged Dr House. 

"Did you get hold of him?" Foreman asked as he and Cameron walked into the conference room. The two doctors didn't look much better than Chase.

"Uh, sort of," Chase replied, thinking hard. "Hey, where do you guys keep your pager when you're at home? When you go to bed, I mean."

"On my bedside table, why?" Foreman asked, looking confused.

"Same here," Cameron replied. "So what? I'm sure that's what every doctor does."

"Yeah, I know," Chase said, glancing at the phone again.

"Are you sure you paged House?" Foreman said. "You're acting weird."

"Yeah, I paged him," Chase replied. "Dr Wilson called back."

"Yeah, so?" Foreman said as he slumped down into a chair.

"He sounded like he'd just woken up," Chase added. "And he didn't exactly answer my question about why it was _him_ calling and not House. Now assuming that House leaves his pager where you and I do, what does _that_ say to you?"

Cameron and Foreman stared at him for a long, long moment.

"No way," Foreman said dismissively. "House probably just left his pager out in the living room or something."

Chase affected a dubious expression; to be honest he thought Foreman was right but he was enjoying the reactions of his team mates. Foreman looked stunned but dismissive but it was Cameron who was providing the true entertainment value. You could tell she _wanted_ to believe Foreman but there was obviously a little voice in her mind whispering nasty things to her that made her stop and look slightly betrayed. As Chase watched Cameron did an about face and headed out of the conference room without a word. Once she was well away Chase sniggered, drawing an amused look from Foreman.

"One of these days she's going to realising you're messing with her and there'll be blood on the floor," Foreman said.

"I just can't figure what's actually going on between her and House," Chase replied. "Maybe if I keep poking, I'll get an answer."

"You've been spending too much time around House," Foreman replied. "Wake me up when he gets here, will you?"

Foreman slumped down in his chair and closed his eyes. Chase contemplated doing the same but eventually decided that coffee might be the best option right about now. He wanted to be awake when House arrived, not half asleep.

* * *

"House," Wilson said quietly, giving the sleeping man a shake. "Wake up." 

House muttered and shifted slightly and Wilson rolled his eyes. How the man could wake the way he did the previous morning yet sleep like the dead today was beyond him. It was possible their activities the previous night might have something to do with it however.

"Greg," Wilson said a little louder.

The seemed to get through to the sleeping man and House's eyes opened slightly.

"Chase paged you," Wilson said. "There's been another woman brought in."

"Delightful," House muttered then he frowned. "I didn't hear my pager."

"You slept through it," Wilson said blandly. "I called."

House rolled off Wilson and sat up with a wince and a slight hiss of pain. He looked back down at his friend with an amused look. "_You_ called? That'll do wonders for those rumours."

Wilson chuckled and sat up, wincing himself when his body reminded him about what they'd done the previous night. "At least this time the rumours will have a ring of truth about them. Besides I hardly think anybody on your team will be that surprised to hear me on the phone. I spend enough time in your office. They'll just make the more normal assumption that I'm hiding from Julie."

House grabbed his cane and got to his feet, limping towards the bathroom. "Which is also true, of course."

Wilson watched the older man limp across the room with an appreciative look. House caught that expression as he opened the door to the bathroom and raised an eyebrow as he raked his gaze up and down what he could see of Wilson. His usual smirk took on a distinct tinge of smug amusement.

Wilson rolled his eyes as he pushed the sheets back and stood, wincing again at the aches last night had given him. "Keep looking at me like that and those rumours will be established as fact."

"Beard burn's a good look on you," House replied over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Wilson froze for a second then gave a resigned sigh. As he too headed for the bathroom, he tried to think up possible explanations for what he was sure he was going to find.

* * *

My apologies for the lack of smut, I was planning on it and it's not that I can't write it, it's just that I've never really been able to work out the line between an R or M rating and an NC-17 rating. I may write the "missing scene" from this at a later point and put it up elsewhere - either at my Yahoo group or on LJ possibly.

Oh, and the whole pinning a person to the wall with the cane thing? That actually came from somethng an ex-boyfriend of mine did once, only he used a crutch. A little painful and leaves an interesting bruise but it's kind of kinky too...er, that sort of drifted into the TMI realm, didn't it?


	6. Chapter 6

Well, here is your next chapter. After a few requests I have actually written the missing scene from Chapter 5. If you want to read it you can either drop me a review or email and I can send it to you or you can find it at my writing LJ - under the name SwordKat - along with almost everything else I've written. (I've just started it and haven't got everything on there yet - should be done soon.)

* * *

Wilson sat in the passenger seat of House's Corvette with an air of resignation around him. As it turned out, beard burn had been the least of his problems this morning. House had left more than one mark on his neck and not all of them could be hidden by the collar of his shirt. And unlike House, he didn't think he could get away with wearing a turtleneck today, not that House actually _was_ wearing a turtleneck today. House had been more amused than apologetic and had made many suggestions, none of which were overly helpful. Wilson had endured this with slightly exasperated patience until House made a particularly lurid remark. This had prompted him to push the older man carefully up against the wall of the bedroom and make his own mark.

He snuck a glance over at House and swallowed a smirk at the livid mark that now resided just where the stubble ended on the other man's neck. He was sure they were both going to regret their…enthusiasm when they got to work but at least it had been rather fun putting the marks there in the first place.

"I think I'm going to hide in my office today," Wilson said conversationally.

House shot him a scornful look. "Chicken."

"Greg, we have matching _visible_ lovebites," Wilson replied patiently. "What precisely do you think is going to run through people's minds when they see them?"

"That Julie's an animal and I got surprisingly lucky last night," House replied with a smirk. "It has the benefit of being at least half true."

"That might work if I wasn't sure that the news of my impending divorce hadn't already hit the hospital gossip rounds," Wilson replied. "Not to mention the fact that Julie has _never_ left marks on me."

"Well, that doesn't mean they won't still think that I got surprisingly lucky last night," House said.

"We both did actually," Wilson said with a flash of a grin then he gave House a curious look. "You're not at all…well, _worried_ about what people's reactions might be?"

House snorted. "James, people have been making assumptions about us for years. Most of them will be of the opinion that it wasn't true then and isn't true now. People will believe what they want to believe, evidence to the contrary."

"The Arnello brothers," Wilson muttered. "I suppose you have a point."

"Besides think of the amusement value of Cuddy and Cameron's reactions when _they_ see the marks," House pointed out, the expression on his face only a step or two below evil.

Wilson covered his face with one hand and sighed. "You used to poke ant hills when you were a child, didn't you?"

"Not to mention Foreman and Chase," House continued blithely, ignoring Wilson's comment. "Though I'll bet you twenty bucks Foreman reacts the least."

"Not taking that bet," Wilson replied as they pulled into the car park. "Foreman doesn't like you that much. Respects you, yes, likes you, no. He wouldn't care if you were sleeping with goats as long as it doesn't affect his work."

House snorted as he parked the car. "What work?" he said snidely.

Wilson rolled his eyes as they got out of the car and headed inside.

"Did Chase give any details about this new one?" House asked as they walked in the doors.

"No, just that she'd been admitted and was showing the same symptoms," Wilson replied. "When are the CDC supposed to be getting here?"

"Sometime this morning," House replied absently. "Probably earlier rather than later."

They had reached the lifts by now and House prodded the button with his cane. The doors slid open and the two men got in. The ride up was quiet and when the doors opened again, House limped out and headed straight for his office. Wilson walked beside him then laughed softly when they came into view of the conference room.

"You should send them home tonight. They look exhausted," he remarked. "Let the CDC do the overnight scut work."

"Does 'em good," House replied as he pushed the door open. "Wouldn't want them to get ideas above their stations."

House's team were sitting around the table with varying degrees of alertness and all three had cups of coffee in front of them. They briefly glanced up when House and Wilson walked in and began to visibly pull themselves together.

"What've we got?" House demanded as he headed for his office and dumped his bag inside the door.

Wilson let his bag drop just inside the conference room and headed over to the coffee machine. He poured two cups and presented one to House when he came back into the conference room. He received a quirk of the lips in return then House was looking expectantly at his team who in turn were all staring down at various files and other bits of paper.

"Maria Lopez," Chase said as he opened the file in front of him. "Twenty-three year old bank teller. Brought in about an hour ago after she attacked a cab driver and then tried to chew her own fingers off. We've sent off urine and blood for the tests to confirm this is the same thing as the others and we've started her on Allopurinal. We're also monitoring her kidney function."

Chase looked up at House rather tiredly at this point then his eyes widened and he became a touch more alert as the mark on his boss' neck caught his attention. He suddenly remembered the phone call from Dr Wilson rather than Dr House this morning. His gaze flickered up to House's face then over to Wilson whereupon his eyes widened again at the sight of the marks on that man's neck. His lips twitched and mirth filled his eyes for a brief moment before he flicked a glance at the oblivious Cameron. He resolutely turned his attention back to the file in front of him.

House, having followed that sequence of events, shot Wilson a look full of sardonic amusement which garnered a resigned sigh in return. "How are the other two?"

"Susan McIntyre's kidneys are starting to fail," Cameron reported grimly. "She's on dialysis but she can't stay like that forever. Rina Tyler's kidneys are close to failing as well."

"Hate," Wilson muttered to House, drawing the attention of all three young doctors.

"He hates them to death," House replied and both men did their best to ignore the looks they were getting from Cameron and Foreman as they saw the marks on their respective necks and put two and two together.

From what House could see Foreman was mentally dismissing the whole thing as irrelevant but Cameron looked pale and slightly shocked though that expression was quickly fading into one of minor betrayal. He sighed inwardly; she was going to be fun to deal with. Chase was watching Cameron with amusement and House did a quick mental re-evaluation of the young Australian. Clearly he'd been having a greater effect on Chase than he thought, something he heartily approved of.

"Who hates who to death?" Foreman asked with a confused frown.

"Nevermind," House said dismissively. "Get everything we have on all of the patients together. The CDC will be arriving sometime this morning. Don't want the big boys to think we're just local yokels, do we?"

With that House limped towards his office, Wilson following him in. The moment the door closed behind the two doctors, Chase grinned at his co-workers.

"I was right," he said smugly.

Foreman rolled his eyes and he got up and grabbed the files on the first two women. "Who cares?"

"You don't care that House is apparently sleeping with Dr Wilson?" Chase asked with a wicked grin.

"He can sleep with whoever or _whatever_ he likes," Foreman said bluntly. "I couldn't give a damn."

"You don't know that they're sleeping together," Cameron said defensively.

Chase snorted derisively. "Did you see those lovebites? What do you think happened? They picked up a couple of hookers and had an all-night orgy at House's place?"

Foreman looked over at Chase, who was now blushing slightly, and scowled. "Thank you _very_ much for putting that image in my head. I really needed it right now."

Cameron gave Chase a look that wavered between prim and disturbed. "I don't think we should be gossiping about our boss. Besides we've got work to do." With that she stormed out of the conference room.

"But we gossip about House all the time," Chase said mildly, his blush fading.

"We _bitch_ about House all the time," Foreman corrected. "There's a difference."

Chase snorted and shuffled through the paperwork in front as he determined whether he had everything the CDC would need.

* * *

The team from the CDC arrived about an hour later, just after seven thirty. Dr Cuddy was with them and she introduced them to House's team before gesturing for them to take seats around the conference table and heading into House's office where he was still talking with Wilson.

"Dr House," she said firmly before doing a double-take that House intended to remind her of for as long as he could possibly get away with. Her eyes flickered from House's neck to Wilson and then down to Wilson's neck. She closed her eyes for a brief moment then muttered, "I do _not_ want to know."

She then took a deep breath and turned her attention back to House. "As you can see, the team from the CDC are here. I'll leave them with you."

With that she turned on her heel and stalked out, pausing briefly to speak to the short, stocky man who was standing in front of the white board and eyeing the writing on it with interest.

Wilson pushed himself to his feet as House did the same. "Play nice with the new kids, House," he said with amusement.

"Why?" House replied archly. "I never have before."

"They might be able to _help_," Wilson pointed out as he walked out into the conference room. He nodded briefly to the doctors from Boston then picked up his bag and left.

The short, stocky man turned to House, his face calm and curious. He looked House up and down, raising an eyebrow at the cane then held out a hand. "I'm Dr Stephen Martinson. You seem to have a very nasty little situation here."

House limped over and shook the other doctor's hand. "Dr Gregory House. It just got a bit worse this morning. New one."

Dr Martinson's expression became grim. "What the hell is going on here? Some kind of outbreak? The information that was sent indicated this was caused by some kind of mutated HIV."

"No," House said firmly. "This is deliberate. The police are trying to track down the man the first girl…" He turned to his team.

"Sarah Hooper," Cameron said patiently.

"Sarah Hooper went out with," House continued blithely. "He's the source of all of this."

"He has it?" Martinson asked. "Wouldn't that make him our index case?"

"Except _he's_ not here," House pointed out. "Wilson and I were discussing this yesterday. This is far too deliberate. All of my patients are women in their twenties. They all look alike. There's a pattern. The virus has been engineered. This is a deliberate attack by someone who is very angry at young women."

Martinson paused as he thought through. Several of the doctors from the CDC starting nodding.

"Then the logical assumption is that he's probably infected with HIV himself," one of them observed. "And that he got it from a woman. Interesting."

"But what he's got is not the same HIV the women have," another said. "And that makes _this_ HIV an engineered virus."

"Which theoretically should make it easy to find this guy," a third added. "There really aren't _that_ many scientists good enough to create something like this." This doctor looked over at House. "What's this genetic disorder that the virus is mimicking?"

"Lesch-Nyhan," House said shortly.

"What's _that_?" one of the CDC doctors said with a frown.

"Mutation in the HPRT gene on the X chromosome," Foreman replied. "Causes a build up of uric acid along with neurological effects. Self-harm, mostly self-cannibalisation but they will attack others, beat their heads against the wall and so on."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that one," the doctor replied with a grimace. "Nasty. I can see why you figured out it was something engineered. X chromo disorders are rare in women."

"What condition are your patients in?" Martinson asked.

"Two dead, two dying and one just in this morning," House said acidly.

Martinson frowned before turning and picking up a pile of faxed notes. He glanced at them and his frown deepened. "The first girl presented two days ago and she died yesterday? Jesus, that's quick."

"That's scary," one of the doctors at the table muttered.

Martinson glanced down at the papers in his hand then back at House. "Maybe you'd better run through all of this again. I want to make sure we're all perfectly clear before we get started."

House nodded and flicked his hand at his team. They exchanged glances before Foreman stood and ran through everything they'd seen and done with the five women in the last few days. Once he finished he sat down and there was silence in the room.

"You say that the police are looking for this Michael Larette?" Martinson finally asked.

"For what's its worth," Chase said with a tinge of disgust. "We don't think he used his real name and Sarah's not around to identify him for us."

"What about this latest girl?" Martinson said. "How did she get it?"

"There's a small puncture wound just above her clavicle like three of the other four women," Cameron replied. "I checked that after Dr House suggested it last night. Only Susan McIntyre didn't have the puncture mark. But she probably contracted it from the bite."

"So this latest woman might have gone out on a date with our mad scientist as well?" one of the CDC doctor's asked, sitting up in his seat in sudden interest.

"She's still unconscious so we don't know yet," Cameron replied.

"Arnie, go and track down where this girl lives and where she works," Martinson ordered then he flicked a glance at House. "And take one of Dr House's team with you."

"I'll go," Cameron volunteered.

The doctor who had suggested the date nodded and stood. He gave Cameron a quick grin. "Shall we?"

Cameron quickly gathered up her notes and dumped them rather forcefully on top of Chase's pile. She then took off her lab coat and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair at one of the desks. The two doctors then headed out of the conference room.

Martinson turned his attention back to House. "I take it the bodies of the two deceased girl are still here."

"They're down in the morgue," Chase offered.

Martinson's lips quirked in a small smile. "Then perhaps you could take my pathologist, Dr Fitzgerald, down so she can get started on the autopsies?"

Chase nodded and stood along with a middle-aged and rather severe-looking woman from the Boston team.

"Am I looking for anything in particular?" she asked Martinson sourly.

"Just whatever you can find, my dear," Martinson replied urbanely. "I wouldn't profess to tell you how to do your job."

"Good thing," the woman muttered as she and Chase left the room.

Martinson chuckled then turned to the rest of his team. "Mark, Terry, go and find some lab space and start sequencing this little bugger. I want to know what it does. That'll go a long way towards figuring out what kind of scientist we're dealing with. Annie, Carl, if you could go with Dr Foreman and have a look at our three remaining patients."

The remaining doctors all got to their feet and shuffled out of the room, leaving Martinson and House. The CDC doctors eyed House with amusement.

"I see you've mastered the art of supervision," he observed.

House snorted and decided this doctor might actually be tolerable to work with. "What's the point of having minions if you don't put them to work?"

"Minions," Martinson mused. "Is that what they're calling them these days? I'll have to remember that. I wonder how my team would react if I called them minions."

"You need the reputation for being a misanthropic son of a bitch before you can get away with doing that," House replied with a hint of amusement. "You don't strike me as that sort of man."

Martinson chuckled. "True. I've cultivated the appearance of an absentminded fuddy-duddy. It's very good for disarming people and works well with my looks." He gestured towards his short, stocky frame.

House snorted as he headed for his office, Martinson following along. He sat down in his chair and leaned his cane against the desk while Martinson took Wilson's normal seat.

"How long has the McIntyre girl been on dialysis?" the CDC doctor asked quietly as he laced his fingers together across his stomach.

"Most of the night," House replied with a grimace. "Not that it's helping. Her kidneys are failing anyway."

Martinson made a frustrated noise. "You know this virus can't actually be giving them Lesch-Nyhan? Lesch-Nyhan is caused by a mutated gene, an _absence_ of an enzyme. These girls all have a perfectly good copy of the gene that _should_ be producing a perfectly good enzyme."

House nodded. "I know. The gene in the virus must be producing something that binds with the HPRT enzyme."

"Hmm, yes, you're probably right," Martinson said as he frowned in thought. "The almost non-existent levels of HPRT and phenomenally high levels of uric acid seem to point that way." He took a deep breath. "Well, not to worry, Dr House. My team is one of the best. We'll find an answer."

"It's not the _answer_ I'm concerned about," House replied archly. "These girls are dying. I don't suppose any of your team have a way of curing them in their pockets."

Martinson's face went very still. "With the speed this virus acts, we're not likely to save any of them. Even if we could treat the symptoms effectively, there is no vaccine or cure for HIV."

House scrubbed his face with one hand. "I know," he said with no hint of his normal sarcasm.

"I wish I had better news," Martinson said quietly. "Let's just hope that the police can track this man down quickly, before he can harm anymore women."


	7. Chapter 7

Well, because you've all been such good little vegemites and I've had a bit of inspiration, here is the next chapter.

* * *

Cameron pulled her car up outside the address they gotten from Maria Lopez's licence and looked at the neat house and front yard. Arnie climbed out of the car and she quickly followed him, pulling the sick woman's keys out of her pocket.

"Does this always feel just slightly wrong to you? Creeping into some else's home while they're lying in hospital," Arnie asked as they walked up to the front door.

"Yes," Cameron replied with a wry smile. "Though this is better than the way we normally do it. House usually sends us out _without_ the front door keys. I think he likes the idea of us doing some petty breaking and entering."

Arnie laughed. "Please tell me you actually go and get them anyway."

"Mostly," Cameron replied as she unlocked the door. "Sometimes we're not exactly going there with the owner's permission."

"Dr House sounds like an interesting guy to work for," Arnie observed as they gingerly walked inside.

"That's one way of putting it," Cameron replied.

They walked down the hallway, peering into doors as they passed them. When they found the kitchen, Cameron headed straight for the phone.

"Let's see if she wrote down anything about this date of hers," she said absently as she reached for the litter of papers next to the phone.

Arnie left her to it and looked around the bright and cheerful kitchen. "So what's Dr House like anyway? Dr Martinson said before we left Boston that he's got a good reputation as a doctor."

Cameron snorted. "I'm sure he does," she said with a hint of irritation. "He's a misanthrope. He hates patients and tries _not_ to see them if he possibly can. He's sarcastic, rude and enjoys irritating the hell out of you. He treats us like his indentured servants and has probably only one friend in Dr Wilson." She paused and looked down at the papers in her hand unseeingly. "He's also one of the best doctors I've ever seen. He's tenacious and brilliant and he never gives up until he's figured out what's wrong."

Arnie looked at her with interest as she went back to flipping through the papers. "Sounds like he'd be pretty challenging to work for. Should I ask why he uses that cane or just leave it alone and let myself die of curiosity?"

Cameron looked uncertain. "I…I'm not really sure it's my place to tell you something like that." She sighed. "Though I suppose it's not _really_ a secret, just don't feel sorry for him. He hates that and he'll make you, me and everyone else in the room pay for it."

"You have my word," Arnie said with a grin, one hand over his heart. "I promise I won't gossip about it either."

"He had an infarction in his leg, his thigh to be precise," Cameron said with a sigh. "There were some problems and they operated to remove the dead tissue. It left him with the limp and in constant pain."

Arnie gave a low whistle. "Nasty. I guess adding stubborn to that list of Dr House's attributes wouldn't go astray."

Cameron gave an odd smile. "Stubborn suits him." She put the papers back on the bench. "Nothing there."

"That's because it's here," Arnie replied triumphantly as he plucked a piece of paper from the fridge door. "Tony, Wednesday night, 6pm, Harriet's and a cell phone number. I assume Harriet's is the name of a restaurant around here?"

Cameron nodded. "It's downtown and it's rather expensive too. We should go there and ask if they remember Maria Lopez and her date. And maybe try the number."

"Sounds good to me. We should also give the phone number to the police. They might be able to trace it a bit better than a couple of mere doctors," Arnie said easily. "Anything else we should look for while we're here?"

"I don't think so," Cameron said dubiously as she looked around the kitchen. "We know she was infected and this was probably the first date she'd gone out on with this Tony or Michael or whoever he really is."

"Yeah, probably nothing more of interest here," Arnie agreed as he headed for the front door. "You know that was pretty clever of Dr House figuring all that out. Particularly that odd genetic disorder. He better watch out. Dr Martinson will want to recruit him. He's always looking out for good doctors."

"I don't think Dr House would want to leave Princeton-Plainsboro," Cameron said confidently. "His friends are here and I don't think he'd really be _that_ interested in uprooting himself."

Arnie shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. I guess people who have disabilities often like to get themselves into set patterns. Makes 'em feel more in control of their lives."

"I don't think it's that exactly," Cameron replied as she opened the front door. "He has tenure here and I think he actually does like his work. And he gets to pretty much pick and choose his cases."

"Dr Martinson will still try," Arnie said as they left the house.

As the front door closed and was locked, the door to the spare room slowly swung open. A tall, slender man stepped out into the hallway and stared at the closed front door with a chilling expression. He'd not expected anyone to arrive at Maria Lopez's home quite so quickly and thus had not had time to remove any hints of his existence. Those two finding the note was unfortunate but not overly threatening. The cell phone was already gone, tossed into the drain after Maria had left. And Tony was not his name.

The man walked along the corridor towards the back door and pondered the information that he had overheard. So a doctor named House had worked out what he was doing. That was interesting. He'd thought he might have a few more weeks before anyone started putting two and two together. He slipped out of the back door, carefully closing it and relocking it, the spare key he'd found almost slipping in his gloved hands. He tucked the key back under the pot plant that stood beside the back door and slipped around the side of the house.

As the man got into his car, he considered his next action. He'd intended to return to one of his normal haunts and find his next subject but as he started the car and pulled away from the kerb he changed his mind. He felt that a visit to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital might be in order. He wanted to get a look at this Dr House. A man smart enough to work out what he'd been doing might also be smart enough to identify him. It was entirely possible that Dr House would have to be…removed.

* * *

Chase led Dr Fitzgerald over to the lifts and pressed the button. He glanced over and was surprised to find the woman looked far less severe now that they'd left the room.

"How did the women die?" she asked briskly as they waited.

"Kidney failure," Chase replied a little warily.

Dr Fitzgerald caught that and amusement washed over her face. "I don't bite, Dr…Chase, wasn't it?"

Chase nodded and looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry. You were just a bit…well, sharp in there."

The doors to the lift opened and they walked in. Chase pressed the button that would take them down to the morgue and they watched the doors close.

"I don't always approve of Dr Martinson's methods," Dr Fitzgerald explained. "And he doesn't always approve of mine. But that's a personal matter between the two of us and you don't deserve to get caught in the backwash of our irritation with each other. Now, I presume that I will see a bit of self-mutilation?"

Chase nodded. "Sarah Hooper bit off the top joint of her left index finger and part of her bottom lip before she was restrained. Rebecca Upjohn also bit of the top joint of a finger, the right ring finger in her case. She's also got what will look like a head wound but it was self-inflicted. She was found beating her head against a wall hard enough to split the skin open."

"Rebecca Upjohn's the one who bit a chunk of flesh out of her roommate?" Dr Fitzgerald asked and Chase nodded. The pathologist sighed. "Probably just as well she never found out she infected her friend."

Chase made a non-committal sound as he led Dr Fitzgerald into the morgue. The pathologist working there looked up as they came in then nodded and returned to his work when he saw Chase.

"We asked them to hold the bodies for the CDC to autopsy," Chase explained as he walked over to the bank of freezer compartments. He checked the doors then gestured to two of them. "Here they are."

Dr Fitzgerald nodded briskly. "Right then. Let's get changed and get on with this. I presume you _are_ staying to help me out."

"Of course," Chase replied with an eager smile before they both went to change into scrubs.

* * *

Later that morning the two groups gathered back in the Diagnostic Medicine conference room. They were missing only the two doctors from the CDC who were sequencing the virus. House was leaning against the bench, staring down to where his hands were wrapped around the head of his cane, while Dr Martinson stood in front of the white board bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Who wants to go first?" Martinson said brightly.

The collection of medical personnel around the table exchanged glances then Arnie flicked his hand upward.

"We might as well," he said with a grin at Cameron. "We found a note at Maria Lopez's house. She apparently went on a date with a man named Tony last night. They went to a restaurant called Harriet's which I must say is very nice. There was a cell phone number on the note which we've given to the police but they haven't got back to us yet."

"The maitre d' at Harriet's remembered Maria Lopez," Cameron picked up the conversational ball. "He was apparently rather appreciative of the dress she was wearing. Luckily he also remembered her date. He said _Tony_ was a tall, thin man with light brown hair, brown eyes and was very well-dressed. The police said they'll get a better description from him."

"Did you call the cell phone?" House asked.

Cameron nodded. "No answer. It just went straight to voice mail. That wasn't any help either. He'd apparently never changed the message from the standard greeting."

"Pretty nondescript sounding guy," Carl muttered. "That won't help identifying him."

"Has anyone spoken to Terry or Mark?" Martinson asked. "How are they going with the sequencing?"

"I spoke to them before we came back up here," Carl reported. "Terry said, and I quote, 'we're working on it and pestering us every five minutes isn't going to make the machines go any faster'. So it'll be done when it's done."

"That's…unusually grouchy for Terry," Dr Fitzgerald observed.

"Well, the community of scientists capable of creating a virus like this in America isn't overly large," Carl pointed out. "Terry's got a fair chance of actually _knowing_ the man who's doing this and I don't that's sitting well with him."

Martinson grunted. "So how are our three patients?"

Foreman, Carl and Annie exchanged grim looks.

"If Susan McIntyre lasts until lunchtime, I'll be surprised. And Rina Tyler won't be far behind her," Annie sighed. "Their kidneys just can't cope with the uric acid levels in the blood even with the massive doses of Allopurinal they're getting and the dialysis. We did find one oddity though. Susan McIntyre had brownish-yellow rings around her corneas. It's quite likely they're caused by monosodium urate crystals. With her uric acid levels being so high I think nearly anything's possible."

"We checked the other two girls and they both had those rings around their corneas as well," Foreman added looking slightly disgruntled at having missed that detail. "Though the ones in Maria Lopez's eyes are pretty faint."

"I found them in the two dead women as well," Dr Fitzgerald added, something made Foreman's disgruntled expression deepen.

"Anything out of the ordinary in the autopsies?" Martinson asked politely.

Dr Fitzgerald shook her head. "Massive kidney failure in both of them," she said flatly. "Lots of signs of elevated uric acid levels. They both had swelling in the joints as well as signs of calculi in the kidneys, ureters and bladder. Given the timeline, this occurred incredibly quickly and the sooner we get this man locked away the better."

There were grim nods from around the table. House had been only half-listening to all of this as he thought furiously. He stared at the people passing in the corridor as he tossed idea around in his mind and wished that Wilson was there to bicker with. His attention had just been caught by the amusing sight of a tall, slender man smiling and chatting to very tiny and slightly rotund nurse when something occurred to him and he looked over at the array of doctors currently adorning his conference room.

"We're going about this the wrong way," he announced.

"How so?" Martinson asked curiously.

"We're trying to work at it from the women's point of view," House replied. "Let's go from our mad scientist's side of things. You've said it yourself; there are only a limited number of people who could create this virus. Let's find out who they are and concentrate on those who live nearby."

There were blank expressions from the others for a moment then a large number of fairly chagrined looks appeared.

House smiled smugly. "I really _do_ have to do all the thinking around here, don't I?"

The CDC doctors looked a little startled and mildly offended at that comment but then got a touch confused when they saw House's team just roll their eyes with resignation.

Dr Martinson gave a resigned sigh. "Carl, go down and speak to Terry. He should be able to give you a list of the scientists skilled enough to do this. Then take the others, split up and track them down." He looked over at House. "I take it we can steal your…_minions_ I believe you call them? None of us know the area that well."

"Steal away," House said with an airy wave of his hand. "Just be sure to get them back before curfew."

Carl smothered a snicker as he shot to his feet and bounded out of the room.

"How are we going to know if we've got the right one?" Chase objected.

"You've got a basic description," House said impatiently. "If they not white and don't have brown hair and brown eyes then cross them off the list and move on. And if they're _missing_ put them on the top of the list and tell the police."

"You think our…er, mad scientist is not working his day job," Martinson said flatly. It was not a question.

"Well, maybe it's just me but I would think it would be a tad noticeable if the average scientist in the laboratory suddenly stopped working on whatever they're meant to be doing and starting killing off little white mice with mutated HIV strains," House replied. "I mean, how much room do you actually need to create your very own virus laboratory?"

"Not much," Annie admitted slowly. "You could probably do it in an average sized bedroom. But surely he isn't doing this at home; some of the machinery needed is horrifically expensive. He couldn't afford that. A lot of _laboratories_ can't afford those machines."

Chase nodded. "Maybe he's doing the development part at work then testing it at home. It wouldn't be _that_ difficult if he was sneaky about it. It'd also be dangerous but somehow I doubt he really cares."

House shot a smug look at Martinson which caused that man to snort with laughter.

"Maybe I _should_ try your tactics with my people," he said with mock-thoughtfulness. "Clearly the kind of mental gymnastics you put them through is good for the thought processes."

"Hey, that idea had occurred to us," Arnie said with a grin. "Dr Chase just got in before we could say anything."

"That's what you say now," House said archly. "But you didn't actually do anything about your idea, did you?"

Arnie shook his head in amused exasperation as House smirked at him.

"Also we might want to look at finding where he's getting his equipment from," House suggested, pushing himself to his feet and limping back and forth. "He'd need test tubes, probably Eppendorf tubes, to store the virus in. Gloves. Syringes. They don't tend to sell those sorts of things in small lots; it's usually a minimum order of 500 or so. Is he ordering this stuff himself or is he stealing it from somewhere? The lab he works at? A hospital?"

"We've got the contacts to do that," Martinson said, nodding at Arnie and Annie. "You two can do that."

The two doctors nodded and headed for the boxes of information they'd brought with them from Boston.

Just then the beepers of House and his team started shrilling and all four grabbed at them. House grimaced as his ducklings jumped up and ran out of the room.

"Rebecca Upjohn, I presume?" Martinson asked grimly.

House nodded and the CDC doctor gestured to _his_ team. They quickly hurried out after Chase, Cameron and Foreman. House returned to lean against the bench and ran a hand down his face.

"You did everything you could," Martinson said calmly. "I can't think of anything I'd have done differently."

"Doesn't help _her_ now, does it?" House snapped.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Martinson said with a sigh. "I'll go and keep everything under control."

House waved a hand, a sour expression on his face. He stared at the floor for a long moment, hands clenched around his cane.

"Another one?" Wilson's voice was calm and matter-of-fact, a point which saved him from a particularly scathing response.

House nodded and Wilson shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"You knew it was likely to happen," Wilson observed.

"And that makes it better?" House snapped. "Oh, do give me the benefit of your realms of experience with dying patients."

Wilson gave House a look of mild reproach before walking over to lean on the bench next to him.

"Of course it doesn't make it better," he said calmly. "Come on, I'll buy you a coffee. I see the pot's empty here."

House grunted and pushed himself off the bench. He limped towards the door with Wilson at his side.

"Damn CDC are drinking all my coffee," he said grumpily as they walked into the corridor.

"House, you're supposed to let them drink your coffee and then make them some more," Wilson replied with a small smile as he swerved to avoid the man who was still talking to the nurse. "They are here to help, after all."

"Ah and here I thought it was to drink my coffee, flirt with my ducklings and clutter up my office."

Wilson snorted then looked over at House with curiosity. "Flirt with your ducklings? Are they really?"

"One of them is," House replied as he headed not for the lifts but Rebecca Upjohn's room. "Cameron's a lucky girl, isn't she?"

"If you're right then yes she is," Wilson replied. "Cafeteria's the other way, you know?"

House glared at him then walked up to where Dr Martinson was standing outside Rebecca's room. He glanced around as House and Wilson walked up.

"She was gone before even we got here," he reported with a frustrated sigh. "Dr Chase is organising to have her taken down to the morgue. Dr Fitzgerald is heading down there now to prepare for the autopsy, not that I think we'll learn anything new. Arnie and Dr Cameron have gone to chase down those suppliers and Annie's heading downstairs to hurry Carl and Terry up."

"Foreman?" House asked.

"He's gone to tell Rebecca's family," Martinson replied, his eyes full of sympathy. "I was about to go and join him. I thought maybe I could explain some of the science and make sure they know we're taking this very seriously and _will_ find the man who did this."

"You do that," House replied and he turned on his heel and headed for the lifts.

"Dr James Wilson," Wilson said, holding a hand out to Martinson. "I'm a…friend of House's."

"Dr Stephen Martinson," the CDC doctor replied with an odd quirk of a smile. "You must have endless patience and I don't think he's waiting for you."

"Wilson! Coffee!" House shouted over his shoulder as he prodded the lift button sharply.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "It was nice meeting you," he said to Martinson before turning and walking up to House. "You know, the cafeteria isn't going to run away. You _can_ wait for five seconds."

The doors to the lift rolled open and they entered. Wilson pressed the button to take them down to the cafeteria and the doors closed. As soon as the lift started to descend, House pressed the emergency stop button and pressed Wilson against the wall of the lift. He captured the younger man's lips in a fierce kiss then pushed away and started the lift moving again.

"Yes, I _can_ wait but I really didn't want to. I'm selfish that way," House replied in a conversational tone as he stared at the number display, humour glinting in his eyes.

Wilson licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Well, yes, some things should be done immediately," he said once he felt he could talk properly again. He then let a rather wicked grin settle on his face. "Though if you're aiming for more life-affirming sex, you'll have to wait until we get home," he said in warm tones.

He was rewarded by a small intake of breath from House followed by a rather heated look. The lift chimed and the doors slid open, prompting both men to wipe their expressions clean as they walked out and headed for the cafeteria.

Neither of them noticed the tall, slender man emerge from the stairwell, look around then follow them.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm on a bit of a roll so here is the next chapter for you...

* * *

When House and Wilson returned from the cafeteria, they found the conference room a hive of activity. All of the phones in the room were in use and Cameron was in House's office using _his_ phone as well. The only one who seemed to be missing was Chase. Wilson eyed this activity speculatively then smiled wryly at House. 

"I think you might be busy this afternoon," he said lightly. "I'd better leave you to it."

House grimaced then nodded before pushing the door opening and limping into the room. Dr Martinson saw him and wandered over, pausing several times to avoid being run over by enthusiastic young doctors.

"Terry came through for us," he said to House without preamble. "We've got a list of nearly twenty names. Most of them seemed to from Princeton but a few are from a couple of private laboratories. I've got the kids on the phones to track them down. Because there's more than I thought, I decided that they'd only go out if they had to."

"How many could you remove immediately?" House asked as he headed for his office.

"Only three," Martinson replied as they walked in. Cameron looked up but went back to her conversation when House waved a hand at her. "Just the ones Terry had actually met that he felt didn't fit the description. The others he only knows through email conversations or by reputation. The ones that aren't chasing up scientists are calling scientific supply companies." He paused and pulled a piece of paper with a couple of names on it out of his pocket. "I was hoping you might be able to call these two. They're senior enough in the field that even _I_ know their names. The questions to them might be better coming from a Head of a hospital department."

"Might be even better coming from the CDC," House said as he took the piece of paper.

Martinson chuckled and pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket. "I have my own scientists to call. The unfortunate part of cultivating an absent-minded fuddy-duddy persona is you end up feeling bad about lumping work on other people. Lucky for you, eh?"

House gave Martinson an amused look as Cameron put the phone down with an exasperated sigh.

"Out," House said to her, gesturing with his cane.

Cameron gave him a withering look before gathering up the papers she had been referring to. "It can't be Dr Jim Terrence," she said to Dr Martinson. "He's been at a conference in Geneva for the last week."

Martinson watched her go with bemusement then turned back to House. "My, my, I don't think you're her favourite person right now," he chuckled. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

Dr Martinson made his escape, his chuckles lingering behind him. House glared at the spectacle in the conference room then sat down in his chair. He threw the piece of paper onto the desk and glared at it irritably for a moment before picking up the phone.

Three quarters of an hour later when he finally put the phone down again he was in a much better mood. Dr William 'Call me Bill' Carter had been surprised to hear from him but had answered his questions with agreeable calm and a refreshing amount of frankness. He'd then turned the tables and asked a few questions about a paper House had published in JAMA about a year ago and the rest of the conversation had veered into the technical. The scientist had been most interested in finding out _how_ House had come up with his diagnosis and that had involved explaining some fairly involuted logic that had seemed straightforward at the time. The scientist had been left shaking his head and expressing his professional admiration which was always something that was likely to leave House in a better humour. Mindless hero worship irritated him; professional respect was far more acceptable. They'd said their goodbyes with House promising to email the more detailed notes on the case to Dr Carter as soon as he could. He made a few notes on a notepad and looked down at the piece of paper again.

His newly acquired good mood was put to the test by his second call when the scientist in question, a Dr Marcus Cartwright, proved to be far more suspicious than his colleague. House was forced to concoct a cover story about having a patient with something horrible and communicable and that he needed to track down the patient's lover. And the only known information about the said lover being that he was a scientist with brown hair and brown eyes. This information seemed to mollify Dr Cartwright and he pointed out to House that it couldn't be him due to the fact that he was married and had red hair. House thanked him with acid politeness and hung up the phone.

He pushed himself to his feet and limped out into the conference room which was still humming with activity.

"Not these two," he said to Martinson, handing him the paper with the names. "One's blond and blue, the other's a redhead."

Martinson opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a loud cheer from Arnie.

"Got 'im!" the young doctor shouted.

The others quickly finished up the phone calls they were making and looked expectantly at the doctor from the CDC.

"Dr Vincent Armitage," Arnie announced triumphantly. "Six foot three, slim build, brown hair, brown eyes, very nice man according to the woman I spoke to but isn't that true of all the psycho serial killers? He's a biotechnologist with a speciality in the genetic engineering of viruses to make vaccines. And he's currently on leave for personal reasons which started about a week and a half ago. He lives about three miles from Princeton-Plainsboro. Got the address out of the phone book."

"Call the police," House and Martinson said in unison.

"And take Dr Cameron and get out there," Martinson added. "Tell the police to take every possible precaution. I can't imagine this man will want to be caught."

Arnie nodded and pulled out his cell phone as he and Cameron headed out the door.

"All we can do now is wait," Martinson said into the sudden silence.

The silence stretched again until it was broken by Foreman and House's beepers going off again. Every doctor in the room sighed and exchanged grim and resigned looks. Foreman got up and ran out the door with House limping along after him. House arrived outside Rina Tyler's room just in time to see Chase step back from the woman with a look of helplessness. The young intensivist looked up at the clock and said something to Foreman who nodded grimly in return. Chase saw House standing outside the room and came out.

"Kidney failure again," he said, sounding tired and depressed.

"We've found him," House said in return.

"Foreman told me," Chase replied. "Thank God."

"I'll leave that to you," House said as he turned. "How's the new one?"

"Unconscious," Chase replied. He paused then jogged after House. "We're not going to save her, are we?" he asked once he'd caught up with his boss.

"No," House said bluntly.

Chase sighed and hung his head for a moment. "Damn."

House hesitated for the barest moment then limped on, leaving Chase staring at the floor behind him. Comfort wasn't his forte; he hardly knew how to accept it, let alone give it to someone else. He returned to the conference room to find everyone standing around or sitting at the table and waiting nervously. Martinson was on the phone but was silent and also seemed to be waiting for something. House limped over and sat down at the end of the table, lifting his bad leg up onto one of the empty chairs. He leaned back and rested one hand lightly on his cane, his eyes trained on Martinson.

Twenty minutes later Foreman and Chase came into the conference room and this coincided with Martinson giving a start and listening intently to the phone.

"They're going in," he reported to the room, one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "The police decided to call in SWAT. They didn't want to take any chances given what Dr Armitage has been doing."

People nodded and made various noises of acknowledgment and the tension in the room increased. The silence stretched out and House tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. His hand clenched around the head of his cane then relaxed. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out his pills. The rattle as he opened the lid made several people start and stare at him. House ignored them as he tipped a single pill out and dry swallowed it. He put the lid back on the bottle and shoved it into his pocket. As he did this Martinson tensed then, in a move that seemed quite incongruous for his appearance, he swore fiercely.

"He's gone," he reported in a voice filled with frustration. "The police say it looks like he hasn't been there for at least a week. But there are signs he'd set up and mini-laboratory in his basement. Arnie's had a quick look but wants to have biohazard gear before he does a full examination."

"I'll get that set up and get down there," Carl said with alacrity.

"I'll go with you," Annie said as she jumped to her feet.

The two CDC doctors strode out of the room as Martinson listened to the phone for a moment longer.

"The police are putting out an APB on Dr Armitage's car and the man himself," Martinson said abruptly. "They're going to start checking the hotels and motels. He must be somewhere close."

Martinson nodded and spoke quietly into the phone then hung it up. He gave a frustrated sigh that was echoed by everyone in the room.

"What do we do now?" Chase asked a little helplessly.

"We look after Ms Lopez and hope that he hasn't found a new victim," Martinson said. "Mark and Terry are still sequencing this virus so that's nothing we can do anything about at the moment."

Martinson gave Chase and Foreman, who were both looking very ragged, a sympathetic look. He then raised an eyebrow at House.

House sighed and rolled his eyes. "Go home," he said to his team. "And call Cameron and tell her to do the same."

"What?" Foreman blinked.

"Really?" Chase asked with almost puppy-like plaintiveness.

House glared at him. "_Go home_. Don't forget to tell Cameron. And don't be late tomorrow."

The two young doctors got to their feet and scurried around collecting their things before almost running out of the conference room. They were clearly wanting to get out of there before House changed his mind. House watched them scurry away with a look of sardonic amusement, something that was partly echoed by the CDC doctors in the room.

House lifted his leg back down from the chair and stood with a wince. "I'd better go and tell Cuddy what's happening."

"I'll keep in touch with the police," Martinson said. "And we'll keep a close eye on Ms Lopez."

House nodded and limped out of the room.

* * *

Much to his sheer irritation, House spent much of the rest of the afternoon in the clinic. When he reported the situation to Cuddy, she decided that since they were at a loose end until either another woman was brought in or the police found their mad scientist, House could spend his time in the clinic. He'd tried a number of excuses but Cuddy had been adamant. House had stumped down to the clinic with ill grace and resigned himself to an afternoon filled with idiots. 

He'd even been denied the amusement of calling Wilson in for a consult when Cuddy had very sweetly told him that every time he did that, she would be there as well. She'd then made an amused observation that she'd even resort to counting the marks on Dr Wilson's neck if necessary and House made a strategic retreat until he could come up with something sufficiently evil to annoy her with.

He finally signed out just before five and limped up to his office with an expression on his face that just _dared_ anyone to make an issue of his leaving. He checked in with Martinson and was told that Maria Lopez was still hanging on, Arnie was finding all sorts of interesting things at Armitage's house, Cameron had gone home, the sequencing of the virus would likely be finished sometime the next day and that Wilson was waiting in his office. House blinked then turned and limped into his office, prodding Wilson with his cane before grabbing his bag.

"Come on," he said abruptly.

Wilson rubbed at his shoulder where the cane had impacted and picked up his own bag. "I heard you got sent to the clinic," he said with mostly well-hidden amusement. "I didn't get called in for a consult. I think I'm disappointed."

House glared at him as they walked out of office and towards the lifts. "Cuddy hates me," he growled.

"She doesn't hate you," Wilson said mildly as they got in the lift. "She thinks you're a pain in the ass put on this world solely to give her an aneurism but she doesn't hate you."

"She said if I called you in for a consult, she'd be coming along too," House replied.

Wilson chuckled. "Ah, that'd be because she doesn't _trust_ you, not because she hates you."

"She said she'd even count the marks on your neck," House said, amusement flickering in his eyes as they got out of the lift and headed for the carpark.

Wilson blushed and one hand went almost involuntarily to his neck. "I've had a very interesting day," was all he said.

House snickered as they got into his car.

"And Julie called," Wilson continued.

House's snickers stopped and he shot a glance at Wilson as he pulled out of his parking spot. "What did she want?"

"I think she's got a source at the hospital," Wilson replied. "She wasn't very happy about the fact I was…flaunting my new relationship in front of everyone. I think she called you a crippled troll and told me I was insane to get involved with you."

House was silent as he drove the car through the traffic. "She may have a point," he said finally.

Wilson sighed and ran one hand down his face. "Greg, I've been _involved_ with you since before the infarction. Okay, the nature of that involvement has changed recently but doesn't change the fact that I've been a relationship of some description with you for longer than _any_ of my wives. I know what you're like, I know you come with enough baggage to sink a small nation and I know I want this. Okay, maybe that does make me insane but I don't care. After all, it's not like I'm Mr Perfect. I come with a fair amount of baggage myself and that doesn't seem to bother you."

House was silent for a moment then a small smile settled on his face. "Not really," he said and Wilson subtly relaxed. "So who do you think the source is?" House continued.

Wilson sighed. "Who knows? I didn't think Julie knew _anyone_ at the hospital. It's not she really ever came there and she only came to a couple of Board functions."

"Probably one of the nurses," House said as he pulled into his car park. "They've never liked me."

Wilson snorted as they got out of the Corvette. "That's because you seem to take an inordinate amount of delight in scaring the hell out of them. What did you expect?"

"A bit more backbone," House replied as he unlocked the door and limped in. "They're supposed to have more gumption than that. They deal with dying people, after all."

Wilson snorted. "Dying people don't tend to growl at the nurses taking care of them," he said dryly as he hung his coat up and held out a hand for House's.

House snorted but dropped his bag and pulled his jacket off. Once Wilson had hung it up and closed the door, House made his move. He backed the younger man up against the wall and kissed him slowly and deeply. Wilson made an agreeable sound and wrapped his arms around House.

"Well, this is unexpected."

The voice came from behind them. House pulled away and turned in one motion, something that pulled a wince from him as his leg protested the sharp movement. Standing in the middle of the living room was a tall, slender man with brown hair and brown eyes. He seemed calm but there was a feeling of frustrated anger that seemed to almost swirl around him.

Wilson swiftly stepped up beside House and glared at the stranger. "Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?"

"I believe this is Dr Vincent Armitage," House replied coolly, eying the scientist carefully.

Armitage's eyes narrowed at the correct identification. "Very clever. But that seems to be a theme for you."

"I like to think I'm fairly intelligent," House replied. "What are you doing here?"

Armitage cocked his head to one side. "I was interested in meeting the man who worked out what I was doing so quickly." He stepped forward and pulled a syringe out of his pocket. "Now, Dr House, you will go and sit down here while your…_friend_ can sit down over there."

House and Wilson paused as they both internally debated whether to obey. Armitage slowly uncapped the syringe and gestured towards them.

"I'm sure you have an idea of what's in here," he said calmly. "If you don't obey me, you'll end up the same way as those stupid women."

House looked over at Wilson and nodded once. He then limped over to the armchair Armitage had indicted while Wilson slowly walked over to the chair that was near the piano. Armitage gave them a chill smile then walked over and plucked House's cane from his hand. He threw it into the corner of the room then walked over to Wilson, reaching into his pocket again.

"I think we'll make sure you can't spoil things," he said to Wilson as he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. He held the syringe on Wilson's shoulder and he closed one end of the handcuffs around the doctor's right wrist. He then attached the other end to the back of the chair and stepped back. He placed the cap back on the syringe and tucked it back into his pocket. He then sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable before looking over at House with a great deal of interest.

"So, Dr House, tell what it is I'm supposed to be doing?" Armitage asked as he stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles.

House was silent for a moment then he shot a quick glance at Wilson before answering.

"You've engineered a virus using the Human Immunodeficiency Virus and something that mimics Lesch-Nyhan disorder," House said coldly. "You're using Rohypnol to subdue young women then injecting them with your virus after which you let them die."

Anger flitted across Armitage's face before he calmed himself. "Very good. So tell me, since you are apparently so very clever, _why_ am I doing this?"

"Because you contracted HIV from a young woman," House said bluntly. "For some reason you can't get to _her_, so you're taking your anger out on any convenient target that you can find." He sneered. "Very brave of you. So frightened of dying you want to take as many people with you as you can."

Rage seemed to grip Armitage and he sprang out of his chair. He leapt towards House and belted him across the face. House's head snapped to one side as he jerked in his chair. Wilson swore and leapt towards Armitage, dragging the chair rather painfully behind him. He came to a sudden halt when Armitage yanked the syringe out of his pocket again. The scientist prowled over to Wilson and forced him back towards where he had been sitting. He reached around Wilson and set the chair on its legs.

"Sit. Down," he said in a very dangerous tone. "If you get up again, I will inject the contents of this syringe into Dr House."

Wilson paled and nodded. He looked past the scientist looming over him to see House wiping blood away from the corner of his mouth. The older man's face looked set and Wilson could see the pain lingering in House's eyes.

"I'm fine, James," House said irritably as he hitched himself up in the armchair.

Wilson relaxed slightly at House's tone of voice. If he was talking like that then he was fine. House got angry and childish when he was badly hurt, not simply irritated.

Armitage eyed Wilson for a bit longer then he put the syringe back into his pocket. He turned on his heel and walked back over to the couch. He sat back down and again affected that casual pose though the tension in his shoulders indicated he was anything but.

"Well, that was all very clever of you, Dr House," he said tightly. "Now answer this question for me. Why should I let you live?"

"Why should you kill me?" House countered as Wilson drew in a sharp breath.

Armitage gave him a very chilling smile. "Well, I suppose I could say something very profound about an eye for an eye except that has more to do with the women than you. And I could say something along the lines of eliminating the one who has worked out what I'm up to except I'm sure you've told this to more than one person. So it really comes down to something along the lines of anger and revenge for spoiling my plans."

"That's very petty of you," House observed. "Not what I'd expect of a scientist of your calibre."

A muscle in Armitage's cheek twitched and irritation flared in his eyes. "Where is it written that the intelligent and talented always have to act in a noble and self-sacrificing manner?" he said bitterly. "She gave me AIDS! She sentenced me to a slow and lingering death and then went and got herself killed in a car accident. She died quickly! I can't get my revenge on her so why _shouldn't_ I take it out on others? Don't women always call themselves _sisters_?"

House's eyes widened momentarily and he glanced over at Wilson. The oncologist was looking at Armitage with undisguised horror. Wilson's gaze tracked over to House and both of them could see the same thing in each other's eyes. The scientist was quite likely angry and crazy enough to kill them both without giving a damn as to the consequences. He was going to die anyway, if it was sooner rather than later then what did it matter. A man with no fear of dying was far more dangerous than any other.


	9. Chapter 9

Here is your next chapter! Sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger...heh, no I'm not really! Come on, cliffhangers a rather fun as you chew on your fingernails wondering what's happened. ducks quickly to avoid the response from the readers

* * *

Arnie walked along the corridor with his arms full of notes and papers that the police had turned over to him. They all came from Armitage's house and both he and the police hoped that there might be some answers to what the scientist had done with the virus he created. He knew that Mark and Terry had nearly finished sequencing the virus but with any luck these notes would make sorting everything out a whole lot easier. 

He hitched the papers around as he reached the lifts and rather awkwardly pushed the button with his elbow. He waited patiently and looked around, quite relieved to see that the normal daytime bustle had died down. The chime of the lift arriving caught his attention and when the doors slid open he walked in, nodding to the little nurse who was inside. He shifted the papers around to press the button for his floor but lost control and dropped half of them.

"Dammit!" he said with frustration as the little nurse leapt forward to help him pick them up.

"I think you should have got some help with this," she said kindly as she gathered notebooks and papers.

"I think you're right," Arnie replied with a charming grin as he did the same. "I wanted to get it all up in one go."

"Men," the nurse chided with amusement. "You really must learn to do things the easy way. Oh!"

The nurse paused and Arnie saw that she was staring with surprised recognition at the photograph of Armitage that the police had given to him.

"You know him?" Arnie asked carefully.

"I…I was talking to him today," the nurse said slowly. "He was visiting a friend and was just walking around. Said his friend was down having an MRI. We got talking."

She blushed and wouldn't meet Arnie's eyes.

"What did you talk about?" Arnie asked gently.

"Oh, nothing much," the nurse said, looking at Arnie with curiosity. "How frustrating it can be for the patients to be stuck in hospital, what it's like being a nurse. He asked about some of the doctors." She smiled indulgently. "I think he wanted to be sure his friend was getting the best possible treatment."

"Which doctors did he ask about?" Arnie asked with a feeling of trepidation.

"Oh, just a couple of the orthopaedic surgeons," she said in an offhand manner. "Though he did ask about the collection of doctors in Diagnostic Medicine. We were standing outside there while we were talking and it's quite unusual to see so many doctors in there."

"What did you say?"

"What does it matter?" the nurse said with a frown. "It was just small talk."

Arnie swallowed hard as he finished gathering up his papers and stood. The nurse handed him the ones she had gathered and Arnie pushed the button for his floor.

"I know it seems odd for me to ask you all these questions," he said patiently. "But trust me, it _is_ important."

The nurse stared at him for a long moment. "And who precisely are you that I should tell you this?"

"My name is Dr Arnold Patterson. I'm with the CDC. I was _in_ Diagnostic Medicine while you two were talking outside. This man is…someone we need to talk to."

The nurse looked shocked. "I…oh…well, I said that the CDC was here at the request of Dr House. That he had some terribly sick patients though I didn't know the details."

"Did he seem particularly interested in Dr House?" Arnie asked.

"Well, he asked what the Diagnostic Medicine department did," the nurse said slowly. "I suppose he did ask a few questions about Dr House." She looked worried and rather pale. "Did…did I do the wrong thing? He didn't ask anything personal that I can remember."

The lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. Arnie stepped out of the lift and looked back. "No," he said as reassuringly as he could. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

The lift doors closed on the nurse's dubious expression and Arnie made his way to the Diagnostic Medicine conference room as fast as he could. The others saw him coming and Dr Fitzgerald was holding the door open for him when he got there. She raised an eyebrow at the tense expression on his face and shut the door behind him.

"I think we might have a problem," Arnie announced as he dumped the papers he was holding onto the table.

"What kind of problem? And what is all of that?" Dr Martinson asked.

"Uh, it's notes from Armitage's home," Arnie said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But that's not the important thing right now. Armitage was _here_."

"What? At the hospital?" Martinson said with concern as the others exchanged startled looks.

Arnie nodded frantically. "Earlier today and he was asking about Dr House."

For the first time since they'd arrived at Princeton-Plainsboro, Dr Martinson lost his slightly absent-minded air and became intent and focused. He turned on one heel and picked up the nearest phone.

"Is Dr Cuddy still here?" he barked into the phone. He waited for a moment then continued. "Dr Cuddy, we may have a situation. Could you please come up here immediately and bring any contact information you have for Dr House?" He paused and listened. "No, no time to answer questions. Just come up here."

With that he hung up the phone and turned to his team. "I assume at least one of you got the phone numbers for Dr House's team?"

Arnie nodded. "I've got them."

"Good," Martinson said. "Call them. Get them back in here. But _don't_ tell them what's happened. I don't want any of them going over to Dr House's home. If Armitage is there, that could make a bad situation worse." He drew in a deep breath. "But call the police first, Arnie. Tell them what you found out and let them know we might just have a hostage situation. Tell them we'll get the address details to them as soon as we have them."

Arnie nodded and grabbed a piece of paper off one of the desks. He thrust it at Dr Fitzgerald. "That's the numbers for Cameron and the others," he said abruptly before disappearing into House's office to call the police.

Dr Fitzgerald sat down at one of the desks and started calling while Dr Martinson walked over to the door and waited for Dr Cuddy. She came striding down the corridor with a file in her hand and an irritated expression on her face. Martinson held the door open for her and she walked in.

"What's this all about?" she demanded.

"The scientist who developed this virus was here at the hospital earlier today," Martinson reported soberly. "He was asking questions about Dr House. We need to get hold him and I forgot to get his contact details. His team have been calling him in prior to this."

Cuddy paled. "No one at this hospital would give out a doctor's home address," she said stiffly.

"They don't need to," Carl said grimly from the table where he was reading some of the notes Arnie had brought in. "He could have just followed Dr House home."

Cuddy swallowed hard and opened the file. "Do you want me to do it?"

Martinson nodded. "Please."

Cuddy walked over to the free phone and quickly dialled House's home number. Her shoulders were stiff with tension as she waited and she did not even twitch when Arnie emerged from the office.

"Do we have his address?" Arnie asked quietly.

Martinson gestured to the file in Cuddy's hand. Arnie looked over her shoulder and quickly wrote it down before disappearing back into the office. Shortly after he did, Cuddy put the phone down.

"He didn't answer," she reported stiffly. "It rang out."

"Arnie's on the phone with the police right now," Martinson said and he and Cuddy walked into the office.

"Yes, sir," Arnie was saying into the phone. He looked up as his boss and Cuddy walked in and his face cleared. "Hang on a minute," he said into the phone then he looked at Cuddy. "What kind of car does Dr House drive?"

"Uh, he…drives a red '65 Corvette," Cuddy said with surprise. "Oh, and Dr Wilson is staying with him at the moment. He drives a blue Mercedes."

Arnie gave her a nod of thanks. "A red '65 Corvette," he said into the phone. "And there should be a blue Mercedes there as well. Yes…yes…I'll wait." He covered the mouthpiece with one hand and looked at Martinson and Cuddy. "They're sending a car around to do a look-see. They'll check if the cars are there and if Armitage's car is in the vicinity. They're not going to approach the apartment though. Not without taking proper precautions. Were you able to get hold of Dr House?"

"The phone rang out," Cuddy said tightly. "But I'll go and try again. It wouldn't be out of the realms of possibility for House to ignore his phone."

Cuddy strode out of the office and picked up one of the phones in the conference room while Martinson leaned against the desk and kept his eye on both Arnie and Cuddy. The tension built in the room as they waited. After about fifteen minutes Cuddy came back into the office.

"No answer," she reported tersely. "He didn't pick up the phone and he didn't respond to his pager."

"That last one is very worrying," Martinson said, his attention still on Arnie. "What doctor would not respond to his pager?"

* * *

House looked back at Armitage and wondered if he actually _was_ smart enough to talk his way out of this. He really wanted to get that syringe away from the scientist first; while Armitage had that they couldn't really do anything without risking a rather unpleasant death. He took a deep breath and shot a quick glance at Wilson before concentrating his attention on Armitage. 

"So how did you find out about me?" he asked with affected idleness.

"I was at Maria's house this morning," Armitage said as he stood and started pacing around the living room, peering at House's belongings. "I overheard those two doctors talking about you."

House's eyes narrowed as he remembered something. "You were at the hospital today. I saw you talking with that nurse."

Armitage smirked. "I like hospitals. They talk about security but how can you secure a place that has hundreds of people walking in and out every day? It was easy to find where you worked. Oh, and you ought to tell your personnel department that their security is pretty lax as well."

"Bit hard since you're apparently planning on killing me," House replied calmly.

"Your…_friend_ can do it," Armitage smirked as he gestured towards Wilson.

House felt something inside him that he didn't want to think about too much relax at that statement. Even if things went the worst possible way, Wilson would still live.

House opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted as his phone started to ring. He shot a curious look at Wilson that was returned. Not that many people ever called him; not that many people had his home number. The list was incredibly short; Wilson, Cuddy, his ducklings and probably Julie. And Wilson was really the only one who ever used it.

"Don't answer that," Armitage barked, his hand slipping into his pocket.

"Because that's not going to raise suspicions," House said archly. "A _doctor_ not answering his phone."

Armitage snarled and leapt at House, backhanding him across the face with his free hand. House's head was snapped back again and his whole body jerked. When he looked back, there was a trickle of blood coming from a small split in his bottom lip and pain echoed through his eyes from the jarring of his leg.

"You're misanthropic son of a bitch according to that pretty little doctor of yours," Armitage said snidely. "I'm sure they won't be surprised if you choose to ignore them."

House didn't react but he saw Wilson grimace on the other side of the room. That was a fair description and ignoring the phone was something House _had_ done before.

The three men sat or stood in silence and listened to the phone ring out. When it finally stopped Armitage jerked and started pacing. House watched him for a moment then looked over at Wilson. The younger man was watching Armitage warily and House could see he was flexing the hand that was handcuff to the chair. He twitched his good leg and when Wilson looked over he shook his head warningly. Protest flared in Wilson's eyes then he nodded once reluctantly.

Armitage whirled around and advanced on House. "So…"

Whatever Armitage was going to say was interrupted by the phone ringing again. The scientist whirled and glared at the phone. Once again they waited in silence while the phone to rang out. A few moments after it stopped, House's pager started beeping and the phone rang again.

"Why are they _doing_ this?" Armitage snarled.

"I'm a _doctor_," House sneered. "I have these funny things called _patients_ and sometimes when things go wrong with those patients the hospital calls me in. I'm not answering my phone or my pager. That's the sort of thing that sets off alarm bells in a hospital."

An animalistic rage flooded Armitage's face and for a brief second House wondered whether he'd just pushed the man too far. He could see Wilson looking at him with a mix of worry and exasperation and made a mental note that perhaps sneering at psychotic scientists wasn't a good idea.

The scientist pulled the syringe out of his pocket and stalked towards House. "Let's finish this," he snarled as he tugged the cap off the syringe.

House tensed and gathered himself; he knew his limitations and knew that he'd have one chance here and one chance only. If he failed then his body, particularly his leg, would not allow him a second chance. And neither would Armitage.

"I've got better things to do," he said archly. He pushed himself to his feet and leapt at the scientist, nearly all of his impetus coming from his good left leg. His hands closed around the scientist's wrists and he wrenched the man's hands down. That was when his lack of balance came into play. His right leg collapsed under him, sending sharp pain up his hip and back. As he fell painfully to his right, he dragged Armitage down with him and pushed the man's hands and the syringe up and away from him as best as he could. He heard a crashing sound on the other side of the room then the syringe was being pulled out of Armitage's hand and thrown across the room.

Armitage howled and lashed out with his feet. He connected with Wilson and sent the man crashing back into the chair he was still handcuffed to. House dimly heard his lover swearing but had no opportunity to do anything. Pain was still radiating out from his leg and he almost involuntarily let go of Armitage's wrists. The scientist took the opportunity that he was given and raised one fist, slamming it down onto House's ruined thigh.

House let out a strangled scream as pain all but overwhelmed him. He forgot everything else as he curled up instinctively around the injured limb, his eyes tightly closed against the pain. He barely felt the blows that landed on his chest and head and certainly did not feel the kick that landed on his ribs.

He did however very dimly hear the door crash open and a loud banging noise but everything else was just a blur underneath his harsh gasping breaths. He flinched when someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled him onto his back.

"House!"

House heard his name being called through the rushing noise of the pain and thought that the voice was very familiar. He slowly pried his eyes open and saw Wilson's worried and frightened face hovering over him through the grey haze of the pain. That was when he realised the hands on his shoulders must belong to the younger man and he willingly succumbed to the pain, trusting Wilson to keep him safe.


	10. Chapter 10

I've been on a roll so here is a second chapter for your enjoyment. Have fun!

* * *

"How is he?" 

"Still unconscious. He's got a couple of cracked ribs though."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine. A few bruises, that's all."

"You should get some rest."

"No, I want to stay here until House wakes up."

"Alright but after that I want you to get some rest."

House slowly swum up out of the blackness as the voices spoke. His mind very slowly identified them as Cuddy and Wilson. He grimaced and swallowed before slowly opening his eyes. He was lying in a bed in a hospital room and he made a disgusted sound that got the immediate attention of the other two people in the room.

"House!" Wilson said with a great deal of relief. He was sitting in a chair at the side of House's bed.

"Apparently," House replied a little owlishly. He looked around and saw he was connected to an IV drip and gathered that the surprising lack of pain he was feeling right now probably had something to do with that. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Wilson asked with a quick glance at Cuddy who was standing on the opposite side of the bed.

"He hit me," House replied a little hoarsely. "On the leg. Not much after that. I remember you speaking to me."

Wilson gave him a tight smile and picked up the glass of water that was sitting on the table beside the bed. He held it out so that House could drink then put it back down.

"There was a police officer outside asking questions of your neighbours," Wilson said tensely. "He heard the sounds of a struggle and broke the door down. He shot Armitage. He's in surgery right now."

House blinked. His brain was working very slowly which he could only attribute to whatever painkillers they had him on. "Why were the police there?"

Wilson gave him another of those tight smiles. "One of the doctors from the CDC found out Armitage had been at the hospital this afternoon. That _was_ Dr Cuddy phoning and paging you. Dr Martinson had the police come and check the place. They weren't going to knock on the door in case they made the situation worse but they thought it might be an idea to ask if the neighbours had seen someone hanging around."

House grunted. "You okay?"

Wilson's smile became something far more genuine. "I'm fine. I'm a bit bruised but nothing more than that."

House gave a small nod and felt his eyes slipping shut. He forced them open. "How bad?"

"You've got a couple of cracked ribs," Wilson replied, correctly interpreting the question. "A split lip and a lot of bruises. I checked your leg. It seemed to be fine."

House nodded and this time let his eyes close. Sleep followed almost immediately.

When he woke again it was Chase who was sitting in the chair beside the bed. The young intensivist was working on a crossword puzzle, a small frown on his face and his pen tapping his lips.

"You're meant to be working. We still had one patient left last time I looked," House rasped. He smirked when Chase jumped and gave him a wide-eyed look.

"I am working," Chase replied nervously. "Dr Wilson only to agreed to go and get some rest if someone stayed with you. Dr Cuddy told me to stay, Cameron to finish things up with the CDC and Foreman to get to the clinic."

House snorted at that; perhaps Cuddy did know him too well. Chase was probably the only one of his ducklings he'd be able to tolerate right now. Cameron would want to fawn over him and Foreman had a decided lack of bedside manner. Chase, at least, would have the sense to leave him alone but the stubbornness to remain in case he genuinely did need something.

He hitched himself up into more of a sitting position, glaring at Chase when the young doctor made a movement to help him and wincing as both his ribs and leg reminded him of what had happened. Chase gave an exasperated sigh and picked up the controls for the bed.

"You know they have these for a reason," he said as he adjusted the bed to a more comfortable position.

"The CDC are leaving?" House asked instead, gesturing for Chase to pour him a glass of water. "And get my chart, will you?"

Chase looked like he was about to protest but instead shook his head and grabbed the chart that was hanging from the end of the bed. He handed it to House then poured the water. He handed the glass to House who was reading the chart.

"No wonder I feel like this," House muttered as he read the medication he'd been given and took a drink. He raised an eyebrow when he saw he'd been admitted as Cuddy's patient then he handed the chart back to Chase.

"What's going on with the CDC?" he snapped.

Chase returned the chart to its holder as he spoke. "They finished sequencing the virus and it agrees with the notes they found at Armitage's house. The virus base is HIV but he'd altered the RNA so that it produced a mutated form of the HPRT enzyme. The mutated enzyme would bind with any normal HPRT it found. That's why it was mimicking Lesch-Nyhan. Apparently even Armitage was surprised at its success. He wasn't expecting the neurological effects to occur. He thought they'd just end up dying of kidney failure. He viewed the appearance of the neurological effects as an added bonus."

"Was it the virus in that syringe he had on him?" House asked.

Chase nodded, a hint of horror flickering in his eyes. "Yeah. If he'd got either you or Dr Wilson, you'd have joined the women."

"Maria Lopez?"

Chase bit his lip. "She's dying. She's still alive but only just. Her family's here. They're pretty upset. Her father wanted to charge into the operating theatre and strangle Armitage."

"What else?" House demanded as he shifted slightly on the bed.

"The CDC are getting ready to go home," Chase said as he took the glass out of House's hand and put it back on the table. He then sat down again before continuing. "The virus has been identified and controlled." He paused. "Armitage had been staying at a local hotel. They got all of the virus he made. I think the CDC are keeping a small sample but the rest of it's been destroyed. They're making copies of all of Armitage's notes for you but there's no reason now for them to stay. Armitage will be charged five counts of first degree murder from what we've heard as well as being charged for assaulting you and Dr Wilson."

House grunted as he felt sleep creeping up on him again. He fought against it but his body conspired against him.

He woke up for a third time to find Wilson sitting next to his bed again, reading from a file.

"Much better," he rasped and Wilson's head shot up.

"Oh, I don't know, Chase is very pretty if you go for that floppy-haired Australian look," Wilson replied with a small smile.

"Do you?" House asked archly.

Wilson's smile modulated into something more heated. "Nah. I like my men older and scruffier."

Wilson got up and leaned over the bed, capturing House's lips in a fervent kiss.

"That's good for me," House said a little breathlessly when the kiss ended.

Wilson stared at him and House could see in his eyes all of the things he wanted to say but wasn't sure if House would accept.

"Very good for me," House said soberly, matching Wilson's gaze. "Guess I'll have to keep you around."

Wilson nodded once then that heated smile broke out again and he leaned down to kiss House.

"Am I interrupting?"

Wilson pulled away from House and gave a flustered glance at the door. Dr Martinson was standing in the doorway looking at them with quiet amusement.

"Yes, you are but come in anyway," House said bluntly as Wilson blushed and sat down.

Martinson chuckled and walked over to stand at the end of House's bed. "I'm glad to see that you're okay," he said urbanely. "I was a bit worried for a while there. I didn't quite anticipate that Dr Armitage would take things so personally."

"Who can predict how a lunatic is going to react?" House said magnanimously. "Chase told me you were leaving."

Martinson nodded. "We're just on our way now. My team's packing everything up and I wanted to see you before we left. It's been a pleasure and a privilege working with you, Dr House. You hardly needed us but this was a pretty little problem."

Martinson walked around to the side of the bed and shook hands with House.

"You're taking some of the virus back," House said flatly.

"We'll put proper security in place," Martinson said calmly. "But this virus was put together in a most ingenious manner. We could likely learn something from studying it. Armitage did some very brilliant if rather diabolical work."

"Keep me updated on what you find," House demanded.

"Of course," Martinson said then he patted House on the shoulder. "I'd best go. Goodness only knows what my people will get up to without proper supervision." He inclined his head to Wilson. "Dr Wilson. It was a pleasure meeting you." With that Martinson strode out of the room.

"You could have been a bit more gracious," Wilson chided with amusement. "He and his team _did_ help after all."

"I could have but I wasn't," House said a little churlishly. "Help me up."

"House, you're supposed to be resting," Wilson objected, coming to his feet and crossing his arms across his chest. "That means staying right where you are and not wandering the corridors and pestering the nurses and patients."

"What's in it for me?" House said stubbornly.

Wilson gave him a smile full of all sorts of promises that made his breath catch slightly.

"I'll think of something," Wilson said as he leaned forward. "If you behave."

House hesitated for a moment as he balanced amusing himself by annoying everyone else against whatever Wilson might come up with when he could finally get out of here. It was no contest really.

"Okay," he said as he grabbed Wilson's tie and pulled him into a kiss.

The End

* * *

Well, this story has come to an end. I'm thinking about writing some more in the House universe since I've had so much fun with this one. All I need to do is come up with another interesting medical mystery. Hope you enjoyed this story - it was my first House fic after many HP fics. 


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